


Wicked Olde Ways

by Leiddely



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/F, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 66,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leiddely/pseuds/Leiddely
Summary: The War is over and life goes on. Sounds boring, dunnit ? Luckily, Boring is Hermione's middle name.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 171
Kudos: 297





	1. Oo Set Up

**Author's Note:**

> J K Rowling is a TERF but Imma play with her things. Yup.

**CHAPTER ONE**

When you break a magical curse, there’s a transfer of energy. Sometimes, it's visible with a spark or a flash, but almost always, you can hear a fizzle or pop. Hermione, however, knew the entry's hold broke by the sudden scent of ash filling her nose.

_At least Fiendfyre burns out with enough time._

_Or when there's nothing left to burn_.

"Yes!"

Either way, the thought was quickly forgotten in the sudden rush of pride that shot through Hermione Granger. Not an easy feat by any means, both the curse breaking and Hermione feeling satisfied with herself. Sweat beaded and distorted the soot that settled on her dark skin. Contented pants filled her lungs and tasted like char. For the last nine and a half hours, she'd been stationed in the seventh floor corridor ever since her meeting with Headmistress McGonagall earlier that day. 

Minerva had written to her on Monday to ask how she’d adjusted to her new job as an Unspeakable and arranged for them catch up over tea this weekend. She had naturally dove head first into her new responsibilities and had yet to have taken a decent day off to see family or friends since. Of course, there were many valiant attempts to pull Hermione away from tearing through the fresh paperwork and research reports required for the job. Even using their sneakiest methods to steal her away, the group never amounted to anything more than a few drinks one Friday night with Ginny and the boys and a couple extended lunches at the office with Draco.

Her friends were ultimately disappointed, but not surprised, that Hermione had successfully dodged every social gathering for the past six weeks. No one could call her out on her excuses either since she always seemed to have a sea of work to wade through instead. Now, whether the work was directly assigned to her or if she had somehow managed to find more to do didn't matter, her job was priority number one and everyone knew it.

However, it was when Hermione returned to her flat in the early hours of Tuesday morning to an incredibly peeved but familiar grey Eastern Screech Owl that she knew she was in real shit.

She shoved the small, muggle key into her lock to deactivate her wards after an eighteen hour shift at the Ministry when a ruckus of animal screams crashed against her ears. Between the owl trash talking her from her ceiling fan to the bratty looking Crookshanks directly below, and the manila envelope bearing a mossy green seal that had fallen forgotten to the floor, Hermione felt the black hole of dread swallow up her insides. _Shit,_ sweat formed coldly at the small of her back, _I should’ve been home at a more reasonable hour_. She’d always take the time to immediately write back to Minerva whenever she wrote, so it’d be clear to her old friend that she just spent a stupid amount of extra hours at the office that day. 

_Or, technically yesterday._ Guilt creased Hermione’s brows. _Fuck. Fuck! I’m in so much trouble._

Dropping her cloak and bag in her deep seated reading chair, she shooed the ornery half-Kneazle away from the traumatized bird. Once Crooks sauntered away, Hermione shuffled a few stacks of notes and project details aside to clear a spot on the kitchen counter. While not exactly a hoarder, she certainly made room for a great deal of things in a _very_ tiny flat.

Mercifully, Crooks hopped out the open window allowing the owl to swoop down from its ridiculous perch and land on the cream countertop. Preening and swatting out his wings erratically, Hermione turned back to the angry owl and fed it a generous handful of Owl treats.

"Sorry, Menace. Looks like we've both had a long night," The owl gave a bitter hoot in reply, but allowed Hermione’s tired strokes on top of his head.

Hermione gave out a world weary sigh and looked around her apartment for the first time in what felt like weeks. It was a cramped one room flat with a small connecting kitchen. A thin, maroon curtain hung limply over the only window in the room, across from the cheap kitchenette. Just a rugged armchair for reading to mark the ‘living room’ and a simple wooden chair next to the slightly unbalanced side table tucked under the window. Hermione ate all her meals next to a smoggy, bleak London skyline. 

She remembered the first time she saw the place. It was almost dusk outside, displaying a rare spectrum of colour that night. Thick, dying sunlight poured in from the glass which warmed the empty flat. It was the most attractive part of the place. _Maybe the only attractive part about it._

The walls were still the same soft eggshell colour as before but now dark bookshelves boxed in the main room, each filled tightly with books. Papers and texts littered the entire flat. Stacks next to the armchair that she often tripped over, then organized back in place after getting up from a long read. Small piles of paper on her little window table for her morning perusal. There was probably a sporadically filled notepad on the tub in the bathroom, too. 

She’d bought the place after the War. Despite reuniting with her parents, she wanted a place of her own. There was so much grief on the run with the boys that Hermione quietly thought that she earned her solitude. She decided somewhere muggle would be best and as close to the Ministry as reasonably possible. Money was no problem after being awarded her Heroes' Bursary from Kingsley’s new political Administration - not that money was ever an issue. However, with the fame and fortune came the attention. If life was hard before being one of Harry Potter’s best friends, it was nothing compared to the media's blatant intrusions of the present. Thankfully, Hermione was connected with a magical agency that specializes in private real estate.

Actually, it was Draco Malfoy himself who set up the contact for her.

Things were incredible tense for the Malfoy family when Voldemort was vanquished. Immediately after the fall, many purebloods and sympathizers were thrown into social and political exile. Some of the public grew vicious of anyone of old Blood and new tensions brewed against them. Personally, Hermione was too busy burying friends and family to give a rats ass about the swift change in the political climate. Between grieving, healing, and reestablishing support and care for her own, Hermione was essentially oblivious.

She gave herself a half hearted smirk revisiting those difficult times.

_Funny, how often I get consumed by myself... Not that much different from now, I think._

"WHOO HOOT," Menace startled Hermione out of the past with a quick flutter of his wings and a hard shove of his dusty grey head against her hand.

Blinking away the dark memories, Hermione straightened and summoned the letter from the wood floor. Taking a deep breath, she broke the McGonagall family seal.

**Dear Hermione,**

**How are you, dear? I've recently heard about your new position at the Ministry from Harry and I’d like to congratulate you on your success. I’m truly happy for you, my dear. Although, I was surprised that I didn't hear about this grand promotion from you personally.**

_Ah. shit. I'm in so much trouble._

**This must explain your suspicious lack of communication. And here I was thinking that you might have fallen in love and eloped from the country without a word. The only comfort I have in now knowing the truth is that your distance wasn't aimed for me directly, but instead towards everyone - and that is a small comfort, indeed.**

Hermione cringed.

**We shall meet soon. I will be available this week for tea and knowing you, you're already spending your evenings at your office, neck deep in paperwork. So, I will relieve you of the opportunity to cancel yet another lunch: you will be on the School Grounds by 2:00pm sharp this Saturday. I expect your punctual arrival.**

**Your friend,**

**MM**

**P.S. I also have a little proposition for you and I think you'll find this puzzle particularly challenging.**

Hermione let the letter fall to the counter and gave Menace a strained look.

"Oh, boy. I'm going to get it." The owl stared back with its dark orange orbs in the way the only pets can do. The innocent animal look of 'what else did you expect?'. 

  
  
  



	2. Wow Trauma Sucks

**CHAPTER TWO**

The sunlight shone bleakly on Saturday's colourless sky. Wind tugged and tore at Hermione's heavy, slate cloak and threatened to contort her hair back into its bedhead state. She wasn't so much as grumpy that morning, but rather quite nervous and ashamed of her behaviour towards her friends as of late. Especially the way she treated Minerva. _Christ, I'm such an idiot sometimes._

Pulling her dark curls behind her ears in spite of the torrent weather, Hermione marched forward from the Apparation point and towards Hogwarts. Trudging up the powdery dirt paths towards the Castle, she kept her eyes on the great doors in the distance. The crisp, strong air pricked at her eyes but she tried not to blink. She felt uneasy to walk so far in such an open area without instinctually checking her blind spots or possible attack points. Unfortunately, Hogwarts invoked a different kind of reaction for her now. She could no longer look out at the ground's long grass and rolling hills without thinking about the Battleground. Without thinking about the bodies and the red-brown smears swiping across magic singed grass.

Hermione felt her throat grow tight and her mouth quirk into a hard line.

The smell of frightened creatures: sweating, unclean, opened, emptying, cooling.

She set her jaw and quickened her pace to the large, wooden doors. Hands clammy, her right hand white knuckled around her wand.

Taking a large breath, she tried to remember what tips her Muggle therapy had taught her. _Focus on the breathing first. In through the mouth, out through the nose. Hold it for a moment if you need to slow down. Recognize the feelings. You can't just will them away, Hermione. See them. Appreciate what they are trying to say. Breathe._

"I know, but it's safe here now," She muttered to herself. She breathed in. "It's safe again."

Breathing out, Hermione took a quick check around herself. The tree line was clear. No one on the paths. Empty sky. Quiet lake. Some of the lights were on in the Castle, but no shadows in the windows.

Slowly, a little bit of tension left her shoulders. Feeling braver and without a fault in her stride, she glanced down at the grass again.

Dark green fields surrounded her, cleaved only by the dirt and cobbled walkways that connected the Castle to Hogsmead and the other building entrances along the school's property. The air created fast flowing ripples in the long grass, showing off its length and shine. The wind howled like ghosts.

Clean. Safe.

While the dark thoughts lingered and clawed lazily at her emotions, she rubbed her fingers against her Vinewood and loosened her grip.

_I need to remember to ask Minnie if I can floo in next time._

Stepping onto the stone slabs before the doors felt like reaching land after years at sea. Secure, but foreign still. Not that Hogwarts’ changed much over the years, even if Hermione did. Inside the building, she began to relax. All the doors were heavy and loud. The hallway echoed. The paintings shifted around and held distant and familiar conversations. She looked at the well placed torches and odd medieval décor and soaked in all the stale, gritty light and felt welcomed.

Winding down the entrance hall and past the empty main staircases, Hermione stopped in front of the large stone Griffin that stood stationed at the Headmistress’ Office. The regal beast perched proudly, with its limbs firm and its chest puffed out, staring straight over Hermione's head at the opposite wall. The beast then moved. The stone stretched lightly like musculature under skin and the Griffin graced its gaze on the young woman before it.

"What business do you have with the Headmistress?" The statue questioned, its voice hollow and rumbling.

"My name is Hermione Granger. I am scheduled for tea with Headmistress McGonagall this afternoon." She replied as the Griffin returned it's eyes to the far wall.

"Prove it."

She quirked her mouth. _That’s absurd._ She didn't even have the letter in her bag either because.. Well, she never needed any proof before.

Seconds passed in silence. Growing frustrated, Hermione slipped off her cloak and draped it over her forearm. She tried to make eye contact with the noble beast again, but the statue remained still.

"Fine." She snipped out. Still irritated by all that had occurred over the week, and honestly the past few months as well, her movements became jerky with poorly held indignation. Snapping out her right wrist to loosen the sleeve of her wand arm she prepared to cast-

"You may enter," The Griffin announced and stone scraped on stone to reveal the spiral staircase.

Hermione glared accusatively at the profile of the statue and noticed a quiver of mirth in it's expression.

"Asshole." 

A low boom followed her up in what might have been a chuckle or merely a shift in old stones. Pushing the door wide open, Hermione heard the gentle clatter of silver and china inside.

"I believe I specified 2 o'clock sharp, Ms. Granger?" McGonagall's harsh brogue cut the air.

Hermione was next to fuming. "I know what you wrote - it wasn't my fault! Your statue tried to pull one on me for no reason!" She stomped into the room.

"Honestly, Min. As if the giant fur bat hasn't seen me a hundred times before!" She waved her hand and slammed the door shut behind her, collapsing into one of the two overstuffed, tartan printed chairs before the Headmistress’ grand, oak desk.

Shutting her eyes, she breathed a frustrated sigh. The fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth. And as if a chill swept through her body, Hermione slowly remembered herself. And more importantly, who she was seated in front of.

Slowly, she creaked open her eyes and peered up at the imposing figure of the Headmistress of Hogwarts before her.

Done up in her nearly black, forest green robes and long, kinked witches hat, Minerva McGonagall sat ramrod straight, with her delicate spectacles balanced neatly on her thin nose. Eyebrows high, eyes pale grey and critical. Her mouth small and impish as she dramatically raised her teacup to her barely hidden smirk.

"Good afternoon, Hermione."

Her body curled up in shame as she maintained the uncomfortable eye contact, knowing Minerva was enjoying this way too much. "Good afternoon, Minnie."

Her smirk grew. "Tea?"

She finally bowed over in guilt.

"Oh, Min, I'm so sorry for not writing back to you sooner. Or writing back to you at all - back when I got the job. Oh, God, I should have visited you when it happened, really. But everything moved so fast, and I couldn’t believe it, and I was so excited, and then I was nervous that I might need to prepare for the position change, or that they hired me just because of Harry - not to say that Harry doesn't earn what he gets, but only that he's famous and he's my best friend or maybe they think I'm famous and I never really deserved the job compared to other, hard working applicants -- oh, Jesus, I should have flooed you--"

"Hermione, dear, it's alright," Minnie stole away from her ordinately carved chair and swooped next to her to take Hermione’s hand and touch her cheek. “There, there. It's alright, dear. I was just being hard on you, that's all. You have grown so independent so quickly, my dear, you forget that you are still a child."

At first, she wondered why Minerva had moved so quickly to forgiveness until she felt her thumb gently brush the wetness from the corner of her eye. _Oh, gods, this is so embarrassing._ She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would somehow rewind her awful show of insolence and follow up breakdown in front of one of her most beloved teachers.

"It's alright, my sweet dear. It's no wonder you're in such a tizzy, you’ve been bottled up for far too long." Minerva cooed and guided her away from her desk and toward the antechamber where the fire was. "Here. I ordered you some lemon tea. I assumed you would be in a state when you got here, but dear, this is why you need to go out and see your friends more often. Relax, you act like you’ve gone out and killed someone."

Hermione breathed out a laugh and sniffled. Taking in great gulps of air, she allowed Minerva to bustle around, whisking teacups over, sending her cloak to the rack, and setting her into a cozy and more appropriately stuffed chair near the hearth.

She dried off her face with her plaid shirt sleeve and smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Minnie," she stated and accepted the hot cup of lemony tea into her weak grip.

Minnie only smiled back warmly, "Oh, posh. You know that I only worry for you, love."


	3. Some Time Skip, I Time Meander

**CHAPTER THREE**

Despite the initially rough start, the day went by swimmingly. Hermione cherished Minerva's scolds and clearly fired opinions. After the War, people were not the same. Lines and behaviours blurred and warped to adjust to the mass trauma that it seemed everyone was dealing with.

One of the few good things that came out of the War, besides the obvious, was a new and wonderful companionship forged between Hermione and Min. Many of the surviving Light spent their first few days after the Final Battle working on and sleeping in the Castle. Most of the fighters were recent or current students, which made the housing arrangements easier. Older fighters like the Weasleys and Xenophilius Lovegood opted instead for accommodations in Hogsmead which worked out well, too.

The tough part was finding spots to grieve.

During the first few months, every alcove and spare classroom in the Castle was likely half destroyed and/or occupied by a crying teenager or adult. Luckily, the staff had their own rooms to heal in, but it wasn't uncommon to find a weeping professor collapsed in the hall. It was even worse at night.

It was probably a few days out from the Final Battle when Hermione found herself tucked into the wall of a deserted upstairs hallway, crying wetly with a shaky hand over her mouth. It must have been half past midnight and Hermione was doing everything she could think of to stop herself from hyperventilating.

She had left the Gryffindor commons earlier in the evening because she was feeling suffocated and lonely in there. Harry and Ginny wanted to spend some time alone together after dinner and Ron had decided to stay at the Hogshead with the rest of his family. 

_Turns out that isolating yourself from others, in fact, does not lessen the feelings of loneliness,_ thought Hermione after the fact. She was also aware of just how many other schoolmates remained at the school and wondered why she didn't think to seek out their company hours ago. _Never mind that now,_ she thought, _I'm too weak to even attempt heading back to the Common Room._

Only a couple of minutes earlier, Hermione was walking fast down hallways and thinking hard when she noticed her location. She slowed her quick, resounding footsteps and stopped. Char licked up and outwards from a vague spot of the stonewalls of the 7th floor hallway.

_Blaise Zambini died here less than a week ago_ , she stared at the wall flooding her vision.

Something inside became fractured deep in her chest, like a windshield against a strong impact. Choking on the air and backing into the wall across from the burns, Hermione roughly slid to the floor as fresh sobs broke through.

It felt as though she had cried for everyone in the last few days. She cried for joy that the War was over and the fighting was done. She cried when she saw Remus and Tonks. She cried with Ginny and Mr. Weasley for Fred. She cried for Lavender. She cried for Colin. She cried for Professor Snape. She cried for the rest of the dead. She cried for the living. And now, she cried for the people who didn’t even like her, those who still suffered on the other side of the War.

The hallway felt like it grew wider and colder as her open mouthed sobs rose and fell away only to rise once more.

"I'm sorry Blaise.. I'm-I'm sorry your parents are alone now.. I'm sorry your friends are gone too or they have to live without you .. I'm so, so sorry.." Hermione hiccoughed and heaved. She sobbed blindly in the cool hallway. She was a large, messy ball of emotions. She felt like a half slush, melted snowball rolled in pine needles and dirt.

The stones that she propped herself against were ice through her makeshift pajamas and house robe. The hairs on her arms stood on end. _Crying does spend a considerable amount of energy, Buttercup,_ she remembered her father saying in her childhood. His wide smile and mischievous eyes glittering as he explained why that's the only reason why he'd allowed her to eat copious amounts of ice cream despite it’s harmful effects on the teeth. _Got to replenish the energy lost, right?_

Hermione got her breathing under control and wiped away most of the snot, but she was bone tired. Not to mention how deeply she did not wish to pass out in front of a room that she knew a fellow student was burned alive in. Her teeth chattered and her brows furrowed.

An echo then registered in her brain, telling her someone was coming. In complete exhaustion, she was only able to loll her head in the direction of the snapping click of boots coming her way. First, there was wandlight and then Minerva suddenly came into view with her wand raised high and defensively. Fierce grey eyes scanned the dimensions of the hall and took a double take of Hermione uncomfortably flopped on the stone floor. Tightening her lips, Minerva looked around to be certain that no others were hidden nearby before lowering her weapon and directing her full attention on her.

"My dear, what are you doing here? Are you alright?" Minerva’s face stayed stony and indifferent, but her voice betrayed a low tenderness. She was donning a faded sleep gown with tiny Scottish Dogs printed on it under an utterly massive maroon robe and a chaste white bonnet.

Hermione absorbed the sight and felt a peculiar urge to laugh at both the scene and her matching state of despair. However, when she opened her mouth to let her hysteria loose, a broken sound tumbled out instead. Hermione’s face crumpled with the noise, a snapshot of conflict and pain. And like a switch, Minerva’s professional courtesy was dropped and replaced by concern.

Carefully, she lowered to Hermione’s eye level and hesitantly reached to touch her hand. She looked back at her professor with watery and fragile eyes in return. "Uh, no. I'm not.. Alright."

Minerva’s face creased and she gave Hermione a sad smile. "Oh. Well, let's see what we can do about that."

Glancing around once more, Minerva lightly grabbed her drooping hand and opposite forearm to ease her up. Hermione hissed out in pain, teeth bared. Minerva immediately let go and searched Hermione's face and body.

"Are you okay, dear? What's wrong?"

Her face contorted into a grimace, horribly aware of how her limbs instinctively drew into herself, protecting her body and left arm tenderly. She looked away, embarrassed.

"Dear," McGonagall spoke slow and careful. "Are you hurt?"

The hall grew unnaturally colder and incredibly tense. Eventually, she gave in to Minerva’s serious gaze and her failing energy. Untangling her stiff limbs from each other, Hermione extended her arm. Min watched her gingerly pull back the sleeve of her robe to reveal a wrapped forearm. The dressing was obviously new, but fresh blood was already bleeding through the gauze.

Minerva’s old, waxy skinned hands inched forward unthinkingly to accept the proffered limb, although she flashed her eyes to Hermione's to gage consent. Hermione's mouth was fixed in a hard quirk but she gave no other signs of protest. Conjuring a clean set of wrappings into her hand, Minerva tapped her wand to the edge of the old wrap to vanish them.

A gasp was snatched from Minerva’s throat as fresh blood welled in the carved letters on Hermione's left arm. She watched Minerva's face. She saw the Professor's tired eyes widen and map the wound, then see them harden as the message was received. Hermione had a niggling feeling that she could feel frost set in the air.

Minerva worked her jaw, as if debating whether or not to say something. Collecting herself, she drew a tiny circle in the air with the tip of her wand and the wrapping covered the tortured flesh. She gave a minute wince. The pressure had stung and pressed into the pain, but in a good way.

"Well, now," Min straightened, pulling the student up with her, this time, careful of the wound. "Off to bed we go."

Minerva was busy checking around themselves again, glaring at the open air as though it were to blame, and did not see Hermione's face crumple. Centering back on the girl, Minerva was surprised to find the girl still looking scared and uncertain. Her eyes were cast low and Minnie worried her inner cheek.

"Come now, let's go .. To my office. We'll get some tea, first." The Headmistress supplied, then cast suspicious looks around the emptiness, "Let’s go get warmed up"

That night after two pots of lemon tea, a hot fire, and only a few drinks of Odgen's Finest, Min suggested that Hermione could sleep in her bed with her for the night.

"Oh, Professor, you've done enough to help me and it wouldn't be kind to bother you for the rest of the night as well," Hermione was flushed a rosy red. Luckily, Min had pieced together during their conversations that Hermione was nervous to go back to her room to sleep alone for the first time since before going on the run with the boys.

"Oh, posh," Minnie slurred slightly. She allowed Hermione only a few slips of the firewhiskey because she was still a few weeks out from her eighteenth birthday. Minerva on the other hand held no qualms in indulging in the drink and downed two glasses in less than an hour.

Draining her third and setting the glass down a little too hard on the mahogany side table, she rose a shaky, gnarled finger at the girl resolutely, "You are a wonderful and mat’ure young woman who *just* finished a war. If all you want tonight is to sleep with someone nearby, surely I can acqui - acquiesce."

Hermione smiled at the woman seated across the hearth from her. Minerva turned out to be quite the lightweight.

"Look! E're both in our p'jamas already. Already halfway there," Minerva warbled with conviction.

Hermione laughed and felt her resolve fall away. At this point, she worried she might just stay in case Minerva fell after she left or decided to carry on her own little party until dawn.

"Alright, Professor.. Thank you," Hermione stood and gave a significant look towards her nearly smashed teacher.

"Ah, call me Minerva, Hermione. I told you- I’ve told you before, you earned it," the older woman struggled to rise from the deep chair. "Hell, you can call me Minnie after all you've done for the Wi'arding World."

Hermione blushed and laughed again, "Yes, Profes-- I mean, Minerva. Here, let me help you."

McGonagall grumbled out something and swatted Hermione away without any real force. Giving in, Hermione pulled at her upper arms and subsequently the rest of her Professor followed.

"Ouf. Strong girl!" Minerva commented to Hermione, who was shaking her head good at her antics. "I've always been light.. Sev-vrus always said that my ani'magus should have been a bird not a cat.." Hermione's good humour faltered at the mention of the deceased Potion's Master. "..But what would he know, the crotchety little shit.."

At this, Hermione's jaw dropped.

"Professor! How can you say that? After all ..?" Hermione had never heard Minerva actually curse. While she was shocked and intrigued by this new side of her Professor, she did not expect her to act so disrespectfully to the recently passed.

"Oh, Sev'rus? Pft, he's not dead. He just hates everyone is all." Minnie mumbled out. Minerva nearly pitched forward from the stagger that Hermione took.

"What?!" Swinging herself in front of the hapless woman in her hold. "Professor Snape is alive?!"

Sobering up a smidge, McGonagall looked first confused by the question and then a settling realization.

"Oh. Shite. I wasn't supposed to say that."

Hermione stared wide eyed at Minerva. Apparently, McGonagall drunk was as poor of a liar as Hagrid sober. 

Searching Minerva's blurry and guilty gaze, Hermione gave her a good hard look. Her hair was greyer than she remembered and the wrinkles dividing her usual pale face were deeper than before. Minerva could only stare back, rosy cheeked and still swaying although Hermione held her fast.

"Never mind for now. It's nearly," Hermione glanced at the old, painted clock hanging in the antechamber, "3:55 in the morning. We'll talk later."

Minerva looked relieved at this declaration and nodded in the direction of her bed.

Hermione cleaned them up briefly in the bathroom, pulled out a Pepper Up from the bedside drawer, as directed, and put the two of them under the covers. Once the rituals were done and Hermione was left to stare at the ceiling, slowly calming herself after a truly rambunctious night, McGonagall spoke.

"Thank you, Hermione."

She smiled.

"Thank you.. Minerva. Goodnight."

  
  



	4. Yay, More Friend(s)

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Soon enough, every night that the three stayed at the Castle, Hermione would trek over to the new Headmistress' old Transfiguration office. Sometimes, they would stay up and talk. Other times, they would cave in and drink together. On the longer days, Hermione would crawl into Minerva's bed in the wee hours of the morning and Minerva would breathe out a quiet, relieved sigh knowing that Hermione was nearby and alright.

Now though, Hermione and Minerva were discussing the challenge McGonagall alluded to in the letter.

"So what was it that you have been.. _Puzzled_ over recently?" Hermione tried to ask nonchalantly and failed.

"Hmm?" Minerva hummed. "What was that, dear?"

Hermione flushed slightly at Minerva's coyness. "You know what I'm talking about. In the postscript of your letter, you told me you had a 'challenge' for me."

"Oh, did I now?" Minerva bit into a tea cookie and chewed contemplatively. Hermione glared daggers. "Oh, yes! The challenge."

Hermione sighed, shaking her head. For a woman who behaved so strict and professional, Minerva could be a real cheeky bugger.

"I presume you are.. Aware of the last use of the Room of Requirements," Hermione gulped but nodded. "Well, the bloody thing has yet to have opened for anyone else since. Not even for me."

Hermione was surprised. Warmth gathered in her chest as she realized that her old professor had gone to her with magical anomalies that even she couldn't crack. She nodded slowly at this, absorbing the information. Snapping her head to meet Minerva's eyes, she then leapt over the arm of her chair and bounded over to the Headmistress' desk for parchment.

"What have you tried?" Hermione called out as she found the set of muggle ball points that she gifted Minerva last Christmas in one of the drawers.

Shaking her head, Minerva cast a quick charm and set down her tea. "Everything I could think of, dear. The usual will power didn't work.. revealing charms, old runes .. sheer force, even, but I think our dear Umbridge would tell you that that will only get you so far.." She chuckled darkly to herself. However, when she heard no response from Hermione except for the quick scratch of pen on parchment, she knew she had already lost the girl to the task.

"I'm guessing you went through the curriculum? This looks like a trial by error case and I'll likely go through everything taught thus far in case Draco or.. The others tried to curse the doorway on the way out.."

Minerva sighed at the rambling and flicked her wand at the entrance door.

".. Although, I know that Harry didn't try to seal the door himself, I thought it was just through the strength of the Castle combined with the distinct properties of the Room of Requirements to know that we all wished the doors shut and willed the room away that it did so.."

The entrance swung open and McGonagall exchanged greetings before gesturing over to bustling former student at her desk.

".. Maybe a few spells from Defense Against.. What did Severus say..?"

"Insufferable as usual," croaked out the low baritone at the doorway.

Hermione looked up from the several scattered papers with notes she had already penned down to see the two professors giving pitying looks back. Severus Snape slouched carelessly in his silver wheelchair with one sharp brow expertly cocked. Long black hair was gathered into a band at the base of his neck and a fair beard of grey and night wrapped the lower half of his face, making him look less severe than in his previous tenure. The robes remained dark and professional as usual, but a thick velvety blue blanket draped over his lap.

"Hello, Severus!" Hermione exclaimed in the most cheerful and enthused manner that she could. Snape rolled his eyes dramatically and looked up at McGonagall from his chair. Minerva knew that the girl did this to bother him whenever she saw him. Although, she was sure he was secretly pleased to have such affection directed to him. McGonagall turned away from his look of utter suffering to cough out a giggle.

"Learned about our little dilemma on the seventh floor, presumably? At least you told her before I came over so I wouldn't have to face a barrage of inane questions on my healing or how my garden is fairing." Severus drawled dryly to the amusement of the two women.

"Oh, Severus, you wouldn't have brought it up if you didn’t wish to talk about it," Countered Hermione, straightening up with a hand on her jean clad hip.

"It's times like these that make me wish that I never drank the antivenom…" Severus sighed out wistfully and McGonagall swatted him lightly on his good shoulder.

"Wish for death one more time in front of me, Severus, and I swear on Albus' grave that I shall personally grant it," Minerva threatened loudly, growling out her R’s while he only chuckled. Hermione grinned at the pair. 

McGonagall wheeled Snape over to the seating arrangement Hermione and herself had just vacated to prepare him a sugary cup of tea. While the bite didn't kill him, Severus was ultimately and seriously crippled by the venom. He had practically lost all use of his legs and the majority of the left side of his body. He was in chronic pain for a long time afterwards, magically walking short distances with obvious difficulties and constantly cold. It wasn't until Severus decided to use a particularly dark spell that would permanently severed the nerves from the below the armpit and a variant of the same spell to eliminate the pain emitting from the mangled remnants of his Dark Mark.

The second he also performed on Hermione's forearm to dull the cursed pain of her scars there. Minutes later, he casted the variant spell for the last time on his left arm that would then make performing magic with that arm impossible.

"Good thing I have two." He joked, his wand tapped awkwardly in his right hand on top of his burned black Dark Mark. That day was heavy and somber. Minerva had sobbed like Hermione had never seen before. They knew that he'd never walk again and that the most magic that he would ever cast again would be either in his unskilled, non-dominant hand or whatever he could manage wandlessly. Severus had hid in a muggle neighbourhood, unbeknownst to the Wizarding World. Not only would he now have to live like a muggle with disabilities in a house alone, but if word ever got out on his miraculous survival, he'd be unable to defend himself when former Death Eaters or self righteous vigilantes came for revenge. 

Severus seemed to have grown unexpectedly on Hermione in a way Minerva had not. He was not an open man nor did he give a single explicit sign that he wished to get to know her any better, let alone ever see her again. Regardless, the more she visited, with or without Minerva’s company, Hermione saw a sense of thickly veiled optimism in him. He'd perk up at her arrival and begrudge her leave in the evenings when they met. It was clear through his self loathing musings that Snape held a new disdain for his chosen reclusively. Perhaps it was his near death experience had lead him to take inventory of his demeanor. Or maybe it was because he was finally without an audience. Either way she knew he'd changed. She noticed it in the way he encouraged her mind like he never had before.

"Did you try Dark spells and both their Dark and non-Dark counters?" She questioned Snape.

He smirked in a fashion more cocky than malicious now. "Have you forgotten who you're talking to?"

Grinning back, Hermione wrote down all the new information. "Anything to add from a Potion's Masters' perspective?"

Severus hummed lowly in response, "Nothing substantial enough to make the effort of brewing worthwhile.. Felix would take too long and is often most unhelpful to the main focus. Not to mention--"

"The ill effects it has on the user over time," Hermione answered, interrupting the sour professor. She did that to him on purpose, too.

"Obviously, you don't need our input, Mrs. Granger, for you undoubtedly have all the answers already." Severus snarked back and grumpily stirred his tea to dissolve the 4 lumps in his cup.

"That may be true, but I enjoy your support anyway," Hermione quipped.

"Little swot."

"Dead man rolling."

Everyone heard McGonagall's snort.

Rising from her awkward position, Hermione gathered her papers and joined the two by the hearth. "Have either of you tried Arithmancy?" The pair groaned in unison.

"What a vile and useless subject--"

"Literal hogwash--"

"--should be ejected from the curriculum--"

"--outdated and was never a reliable indicator of the truth --"

"--the Academic's Divination, may Madam Vector rest in peace--"

"-- Vector never died?"

"Oh," Snape said into his cup, "Too bad. Would've been a great opportunity to can the course."

"Severus!" Hermione stomped and gaped at the two. "You're both acting like a couple of Third Years. Seriously, Arithmancy was probably my favourite subject in school."

"Explains the shoes." Severus whispered to McGonagall.

"Hey!" Hermione tried to look affronted, but her acting skills were lacking to say the least. In fact, it was her awful characterization of offence that made the professors break their standoffish façade into bouts of laughter. They howled and Hermione rolled her eyes and waited. 

And continued to wait.

"Ca-careful, Minnie. Can't have you breaking a hip!" Severus warned between wheezes.

"At least I can still use mine." Minerva called defensively, sensitive about her age around Severus.

"Minerva, we both know that you haven't used your hips in years."

McGonagall wiped away tears, "True.. I guess we might as well share the chair!"

Hermione only sighed. McGonagall transfigured up a few handkerchiefs for Severus and herself and they began to calm down. They took their time with their recovery too, often making eye contact with each other and breaking up a little all over again. Hermione secretly thought that it reminded her of Harry and Ron. Back in school, just a look at one another could set the boys off. Hermione bit her tongue and wondered who would be who. _No matter the combination_ , she thought with a smile _, I think all parties would be greatly disgusted by the comparison._ Hermione cleared her throat loudly. 

"Now then," She began again, haughtily, "I guess I will try my hand at the Room of Requirements and see where Arithmancy will take me." And so, she wordlessly summoned her cloak, purse, and papers, before turning around and strutted out of the Office leaving the two educators to exchange cheeky glances quietly between themselves. 


	5. Finally, she's here

**CHAPTER FIVE**

"Yes!"

Wiping sweat and dust off her face with an equally sweaty and dusty hand, Hermione stood up in front of the looming double doors of the Room of Requirements. Hermione was grateful to have thought to wear muggle attire that day as she had intermittently stripped off her flannel and long sleeve as the long hours passed. The constant work of magic tends to overheat areas due to the continuous transfer of energies and so the once cold 7th floor hallway was burning up like an unconditioned classroom.

_That's an unfortunate metaphor,_ Hermione thought guiltily.

She gazed out at the fruit of her labour donned in a grey undershirt and the pair of sleeping shorts that she carried in her bag whenever she visited the Castle. The stone floor was a patchwork of paper, notes and crumpled balls. Breathing in the hot, ashy air, Hermione gave the door a smug and tired looking smile.

"That wasn't too bad," Hermione remarked to herself. "Only took .. Nine and a half hours."

It was 1:13AM according to her wand and Hermione was exhausted. She had eaten peanut butter straight from the jar for dinner maybe 5 hours ago. On some level, Hermione knew that keeping magical non-perishables in her bottomless purse said something about her, but she was hoping it was along the lines of 'well prepared' or 'proactive' and not 'weird' or 'kind of sad'.

Shaking herself from wandering thoughts, she waved her hand to collect all the paper scattered on the floor into a neat pile.

"Perhaps a shower and off to bed with me.. Severus is going to be pissed!" Hermione snickered to herself then took a step in the direction of the stairs.

Cool air drafted by her and Hermione shivered.

"Oh.." Gripping her clothes in her one arm, she stopped. _Minerva's bath is nice,_ she considered, _but I don't want to put on my dirty clothes just to take them off again.._ Hermione quirked her mouth, teeth chewing her bottom lip.

_And the nearest bathroom is still a few floors down.. School isn't in session though I don't particularly want to go waltzing around the Castle in my underthings either…_

The hall was rapidly cooling from the magical inactivity. Hermione turned back a step to the newly recovered doors.

"I mean, it _is_ the Room of Requirements.. Hell, this is basically how Neville found it the first time.." Hermione raised her chin in defiance, a mischievous thrill tickling her stomach.

Flicking out her right wrist and closing her eyes, Hermione imagined a large bath. She paced slowly with her eyes still closed. _A warm, steamy room.. Candlelight magically casting softly changing colours.. The succulent smell of fruity flowers.. Fluffy, clean towels and robes folded and hanging nearby the massive in ground tub, frothing with bubbles floating in the hot, soothing water.._

Hermione breathed out deeply. Opening her eyes, she set a relaxed and confident gaze on what was once a mess of char.

"Okie, dokie. Time to get this grime off."

Taking the black metal door handle in her wand hand, she pulled.

Inside was nothing like what she imagined.

It was a large room, coloured a deep violet hue. An unnecessarily large hearth opposed the entrance, white marble and bare. Above it was what looked to be a large painting covered in a thick, pitch black drape held up by a shiny gold hanger. The scene confused Hermione and reminded her of the painting and it's set up in Grimmauld place.

Stepping into the room, Hermione stopped short of a thick California King mattress lying on the floor. It had no sheets on it and looked unused. It was surrounded by a sea of papers. Lined paper, scrap and note pages covering so much of the floor, that she was standing on a few pages now.

_Looks like I live here, but it certainly is not what I was expecting_ , Hermione pondered as she looked at the walls. The familiar taste in décor continued to her right as she took in rows of bookcases lining the room as tall as the too high ceiling. The only pattern to the placement of the crazy amount of books filling them up was that they were all at the top and hardly any at the bottom. A few empty bookcases stood at the left side of the room, waiting to be filled.

_Does.. Something live here?_ Hermione's breath cut short at the thought. _Something.. Tall..?_

She noticed the bare walls to both sides of the hearth. On the left, stood a neutral grey dummy. It, like the bed, appeared new and stood propped on its stand, passive and creepy. Tearing her eyes from the doll, the right side of the hearth held a small pool. Clean, clear water lapped inside its dimensions playfully.

"What the fuck?"

_Something's wrong.. This room shouldn't look like this at all.._

A chill ran down Hermione's back.

"Language, Muddy."

Hermione probably jumped two feet in the air when a voice answered from behind her back.

"Oh fuck!--" Hermione dove forward and onto the bed to get away from the sound and rolled until she fell off the other side. "Ouff!"

Now directly in front of the hearth, her heart was pounding hard in her chest and she broke out into a fresh wave of sweat. Pressed low to the floor and crinkling random papers, Hermione clutched her wand tightly to herself, shaking with adrenaline. 

A genuine chuckle rang through the room and squeezed Hermione's heart.

"Didn't I just say to watch your language, little Mudpup?" The chuckling grew a touch darker and it froze Hermione's blood.

_That sounds like.. No._

Gathering her nerves, Hermione sprung upwards and towards the empty bookshelves now on her right. She fired a non verbal Expelliarmus in the direction of the voice. Landing, she saw to her extreme horror that her spell passed right through the misty, white body of Bellatrix LeStrange.

Fear painted Hermione's face, eyes wide and scared.

Bellatrix, on the other hand, pressed her hands to the spot where the spell passed through her chest and _giggled_.

"Ohh, that tickled," Bellatrix examined her unchanged bosom, "Good aim, Muddy."

Hermione felt all colour drain from her face and also glanced, baffled at Bellatrix's chest.

"Wha-?" She began to answer, but thought better of it. Staring at the ghost of Bellatrix LeStrange, Hermione switched gears. "Lumos Duo!"

For the first time since making her presence known, Bellatrix looked surprised. An intense beam of light blasted from the end of Hermione's wand and straight at the spooked ghost. Bellatrix took off from the ground fast to avoid the bright white bolt.

"Hey!" Bellatrix cried out angrily, swooping and diving through the air like a seeker on the tail of a snitch. It quickly became apparent that Bellatrix was quicker in her motions than Hermione was at predicting them and soon Bellatrix began to laugh. "Arm getting tired yet, eh Pup?"

Hermione's arm was tired. It was fucking tired after working nearly 10 hours on a fucking stone wall.

Spurned on from the tinkling laughter falling from above, Hermione growled and cried out, "Lumos Maxima!"

_Bellatrix's shrieking laughter turned into a shrieking shriek_ , thought Hermione triumphantly.

The ghost howled and dove into the water of the enclosed pond, causing a great, large splash. Water hit Hermione, warm and wet and fell soaking the papers carpeting the floor. Across the room, the water sloshed against and over the rim of the pool loudly. Hermione was reminded of her wild heartbeat and erratic breathing as the water calmed with each wave. Hermione stood still.

Gently stepping on wet paper with wand raised, she stalked closer to the pool.

"I know you can't harm me," Hermione announced in her most authoritative voice possible, "But I can hurt you. Come out of there, Bellatrix LeStrange."

"No."

Hermione swore lightly and weighed her options. "Nox."

The room was suddenly darken and bathed only in the flickering fire light of the hearth. As her eyes adjusted to the change, the sound of water parting rang crisply in Hermione's ears.

"Alright, Muddy,” Bellatrix grumbled from the water below. “It was fun up until the last part. Could do without it next time."

Hermione’s ire spiked. "'Next time'? What are you-- what do you want, LeStrange?"

Hermione saw the woman pout moodily and nearly rolled her eyes at the deranged murderess.

"Humpf. Well isn't that a bit rich, Muddy? I mean, _you_ are the one breaking into _my_ space now, aren't we?" More water splashed up as Bellatrix roughly crossed her arms across her laced chest.

_This has to be a dream,_ Hermione shook her head at the scene. A pearly white and partially translucent Bellatrix LeStrange was rising ethereally from the pond before her, looking every bit like a giant toddler. _What is it about this school that makes adults act so .. Childish?_

"How did you get here?" Hermione asked, regretting every second of thinking a bath in the Room of Requirements was a good idea.

This time Bellatrix rolled her eyes comically. "I ‘died’, Mudblood."

"I mean," Hermione sighed and took a fortifying breath, "Why are you here?"

At this, the dead woman grew fidgety. "Well.. How much do you already know about ghosts?"

Hermione thought that the spirit was just dodging her question, but she decided to answer anyway. _Anything to end this sooner rather than later._ "Quite a lot, actually. Ghosts are protected under the Department for Magical Beings, formerly known as the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures, where I've worked for the past 3 years. That's how I knew about your.. Aversion to the _light_ ," Hermione smirked at her own pun while Bellatrix gave a pained grimace back. "A deceased magical being may choose to be a ghost. They are, unfortunately, stuck in the last state of mind and physical being that they were in upon death.."

Hermione trailed off.

For some reason, Bellatrix was beautiful.

Hermione had noticed the jarring change in her appearance - hell, she'd _been her_ for a couple of hours, for fucks sake. It doesn't get more intimate than that.. But, again, this woman was maybe fourty or so at the time of death and spent almost 15 years in the worst prison in the world.

Staring at the suddenly bashful spirit, Hermione saw thick, full hair and what could have been soft, unblemished skin. There were surprisingly few wrinkles on her face and more than enough laugh lines creasing the corner of her mouth. Full lips and heavily hooded eyes. Hermione didn't dare look further south of her mouth, but knew from her first spell that Bellatrix harboured a far from emancipated body.

"Why are you here, Bellatrix?"

  
  
  



	6. Its ya girl, B

**CHAPTER SIX**

Bellatrix Black LeStrange had burst into her room like a hurricane. Throwing the doors shut behind her with a mighty swoop of her arms making them crash so loudly that she might have worried for their integrity. However, Bellatrix was far from concerned about bloody doors.

_Dammit._

_Damn it, damn it._

Every movement hurt like hell, but it wasn't until she was in the safety of her chambers before she let it show. Limping over to her vanity, Bellatrix settled onto the pouf to assess the damaged.

Tugging back her dress, her skin was mottled blackish purple and red in random patterns on her arms, legs, and torso. The bones were thankfully, if not roughly, mended back together in the drawing room although they creaked under the pressure of walking. Undoing her corset, Bellatrix felt her blood glue the fabric to her body despite the wounds having been already sealed.

_I need to remember to drink a coagulant potion next time.._

Bellatrix barked out a single laugh at the thought. She immediately winced and clutched her recently healed ribs.

_'Next time'? Will I even survive the next time?_

The Dark Lord had just finished demonstrating his displeasure at her family's failure to keep the Golden Trio at the manor. He was furious in a way she rarely saw. It wasn't the stony indifference as usual, but a messy, red hot devastation. Lucius was first, but not for long since he was still weak from his stint in Azkaban.

_Pussy,_ Bellatrix thought back bitterly to how her sister defended him.

_Of course she would,_ her lip wobbled on its own accord, _she loves him too much to see him hurt.._

Cissy had also paid for her insolence, of course. But the Malfoy's fared a lot easier than Bellatrix expected. _I suppose He had already lost faith in them.. The expectations were low to begin with.._

Using her hands to unlace her corset was a painful and frustrating experience. Having lost her wand in their escape stung in more ways than one. Opting to wandlessly vanish the dress in its entirety, Bellatrix sat naked in front of her vanity. The trifold mirror told an explicit story of the torture she just endured. But, aside from the welts and blood stains, Bellatrix looked beyond the marks on her body below.

_You're not as young as you once were, Bella_.

Bellatrix had been gorgeous in her youth, but it wasn't until moments like these that she noticed how different she had become. Now, skin sat on her bones looking like it was trying to get away from her. Her hair was stringy and dull. Dark hollows defined her eyes, collarbone, ribs, and hips in a way that made her look like a dead body.

Bellatrix met her eyes in the mirror.

_Oh, what have I done to you, old friend?_

Even now, Bellatrix could see ghosts swimming in her eyes. It hurt to realize that this was what she was now: old and broken.

Water gathered in the eyes of her reflection before twisting into an ugly picture of hate and hurt.

_Don't you dare go soft on me now, you old bitch. After everything we've been through.. You wouldn't dare go now!_

Roughly averting her gaze from the glass, she went to angrily swipe at her face. She paused. Her hands were literally stained with blood. _Mudblood._

The sight made her sick.

_Oh. Right._

Bellatrix stood up and headed to her bath, leaving the mirror behind.

After cleaning up, downing a few healing potions and casting a strong glamour or two, Bellatrix left her room. Donned in a fresh, tight corset and a few enhancement products for her hair until she felt about as sexy as she could these days. She clicked the door gently shut after checking for bodies in the hall. Stepping out, Bellatrix began her walk towards the Dark Lord’s chambers.

Despite the brief revamp of her appearance, Bellatrix grew nervous and fidgety, her boots clacks echoing through the halls. Eyes wild and searching, she jerked at shadows and distant noises. She didn’t feel like herself and she was on edge. Bellatrix knew that it was unwise to seek out the Lord so soon after Punishment but she couldn't take the memories any more. She was sick twice in the bathroom, even though there was nothing left to empty. The bouts were so bad that she re-cracked a rib that was a bloody nightmare to heal wandlessly.

She passed the main wing of the Manor and cringed as the exuberant ruckus rattling out from the dining area. Men were brawling and laughing nastily and metal clanged. _So the filthy Snatchers got a party for their success. Lovely._ Bellatrix quickened her pace to get away from the noise.

_Lucius gets one Crucio, the Half wits who stumbled upon a bunch of teenagers in a forest are rewarded with booze and a feast, and what do I get?_ Bellatrix shook the sour thoughts away even though their foul taste lingered in her mouth. It was from either that or the bile. The East end of the Malfoy Manor was quieter. Dead silence except for her own too loud footsteps. Swallowing, Bellatrix threw up her mental guards in vain. There was only one thing residing in the East Wing and if there was something He'd wished to find, He would get it.

She stopped before the prestigious doors of the last room of the upper hallway. The sconces bracketing the entrance burned too brightly, washing the area with starched light. The heady pressure of dark magic pulsed through the air. The strength of the wards made the hall humid and Bellatrix was lying to herself when she assumed that that's the reason why sweat began beading at her hairline.

_"Came back for more, Bellatrix?"_

She swallowed hard and spoke to the closed doors. "No, my Lord. Unless you deem it necessary, of course, my Lord," All moisture was gone from her mouth and the heavy darkness searched to find residence there.

_"Then what do you want, witch?"_

Unsuccessfully wetting her lips, she strived on "The.. Memories, my Lord. I thought you might wish to.. Keep them."

Silence.

Bellatrix couldn't breathe.

_"Enter."_

Bellatrix felt minutely relieved as the doors creaked open slowly, letting some of the closeness of the atmosphere dissipate _. This isn't even the hard part yet._

Stepping inside, Bellatrix felt like she walked into a tundra. The air hung still and cold like icicles in the lavish room. A huge bed dominated the center of the chamber. She recognized the expensive sheets and warm coloured throws draping the room through the foggy cloud of her breath. The room smelled achingly of her parents, turmeric, and cinnamon. She suppressed a hard shutter.

_They would stay in this Chamber when they would visit_ , goosebumps rose. _Back when.._

_"Tell me, Bellatrix.."_ The voice cracked and drawled from the shadowed figure beneath the grand four poster bed cover. _"What would I want.. With the memories of your failure?"_

She felt like she was fighting for air.

_"My imminent success could have been secured tonight.."_ The crinkling voice continued to hiss. A weighted slither could be heard somewhere in the room close by. " _Your ineptitude cost me that opportunity.. And you think to irritate me further on this utterly disappointing Eve?"_

Bellatrix felt clammy all over. She was on thin ice."My Lord, I.." Bellatrix cleared her throat, attempting to regain her composure. "I tortured the Mudblood."

There was a creak from the bed. _"Oh?"_

_He's intrigued!_ Bellatrix scrambled to take advantage of the shift of focus.

"Yes, my Lord! As you know, the Boy and his filthy friends had possession of Godric's Sword on arrival," The Dark Lord gave an unpleasant growl in acknowledgement, "But, I was able to take some time to question the mudgirl."

A skeletal hand stretched out of the shadows from the bed. A loud hiss tickled threateningly behind Bellatrix's ear and she heard the massive snake descend from the doorframe behind her. It's great body brushed by Bellatrix's ankle in her approach to her Master who had now left the bed.

Bellatrix gulped again but waited for Lord's response. She never feared him like she did after his return. She shifted uncomfortably, _especially after what happened this afternoon.._

Nagini climbed the bedpost and coiled around her Master's shoulders in an unnatural spectacle.

_"Ah, that's a good girl,"_ Voldemort cooed, sickening and sweet, _"And?"_

Brushing away the scene, Bellatrix answered, "She became.. _Familiar_ with my dagger, my Liege."

In the eerily, dim light of the Chamber, Voldemort's skull cracked into a perverted grin _. "Show me."_

As though released from a Petrificus, Bellatrix bounded towards the small sitting area to her right. "Right away, my Lord!" Activating the compartment in the wall, Bellatrix revealed a pensive from the opening.

_"No."_

Bellatrix stopped her motions.

" _Come here."_

Dread filled her stomach. _No_! She cried out desperately to herself. Bellatrix turned back to Master's malicious and knowing face. She obeyed the command taking short, hesitant steps. Drawing closer, Nagini tasted the air. Voldemort’s face curled into a facsimile of confusion.

_"What's wrong, Bellatrix?"_ The Dark Lord prodded at the small woman. _"Why so shy all of a sudden?"_

_This is what I get for approaching Him so soon after my failure.._ Bellatrix tried to grit herself against the despair.

_"Yes, Bellatrix.."_ answered the Dark Lord and she cursed herself for not maintaining her walls. _"Your Punishment is not over yet.."_ Taking her chin between his freezing, long nailed fingers.

_"Legilimens."_

  
  



	7. Ohh STAKES

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"Why are you here, Bellatrix?"

Bellatrix blinked. _Oh, yeah. The Mudblood._ She winced, _I mean.._

"Hermione." Bellatrix looked up into her eyes. The girl was busy studying her with distracted curiosity. Bellatrix felt like giving her a withering look for the girl's lack of clothes in return. Sweat had bled through her undershirt and she was covered in streaks of dark, damp grime. Hermione continued to stare back at the ghost until the words hit her.

"What?" Hermione said dumbly and took a few weary steps backwards.

_This won't be an easy year_.. Bellatrix internally sighed. She followed the girls retreat and settled her ghostly form a few inches above the ground to stay at eye level. "How old are you?"

If possible, Hermione looked even more confused. "What?" She repeated. Hermione wondered when she lost her position as the interrogator.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and floated over to the roaring hearth to give Hermione some well needed space. The light flickered through her image. "Suffering Salazar, I thought you were the Brightest Witch of your Age," Bellatrix spoke exasperated to the flames, "I asked you for your _age,_ girl."

Finding her equilibrium, Hermione chased over to the spirit, "Hey! I'm the ones asking the questions here! What are you doing here?" She felt so exhausted that she was beginning to borrow cheesy muggle movie lines to make her point. Luckily, she was also too tired and angry with the dead witch to care.

Looking completely unfazed, Bellatrix started to think out loud instead.

"Well you, Potter, and my dear nephew were all in the same school year. It was 1998 during the final battle making you.. What, seventeen at the time?"

Hermione's mouth quirked in annoyance. "Yes."

Bellatrix grinned. _At least she looks cute when she's frustrated._ "And what year is it now?"

Hermione didn't like that Bellatrix was leading, but figured she was going somewhere with all of this. "2003."

Bellatrix whistled. "At least I'll be well rested for my revival. Godric knows I haven't gotten good sleep in decades." She clapped her hands and looked down to the stone and puddles. "Now, be a dear and dry these for me. They're very important, you know." Bellatrix flashed a bright smile and gave Hermione a conspiratorial wink. Hermione swallowed a lot of air very quickly.

"Wh-what are you playing at, LeStrange?" Bellatrix hummed girlishly back. "Honestly, what I should be doing right now, is reporting you to the Ministry."

Hermione left the threat hanging in the air and waited for the ghost's reaction. The fire crackled, oblivious to the rising tension.

"Wait."

Hermione smirked. She was back in business.

Bellatrix turned back to the younger girl with a guarded expression. "You've heard that I was once considered to be the Brightest Witch of my Age as well, yes?"

Bellatrix's eyes were wide and unblinking as she gave an imploring look to Hermione. Unnerved, Hermione figured that the queerness of the stare was because ghosts don’t have to blink. The thought didn't help. She nodded once.

Bellatrix bobbed her head back and took off to one of the higher shelves above. Hermione quickly averted her eyes from following up the woman's underskirts. When she returned, Hermione was desperately attempting to decipher the exact shade of purple of the walls. 

"I've changed, Hermione, and I know you won't believe it until you have proof," Hermione's eyebrows rose at the mournful tone. "But, if I can ask one thing of you before you go to the Ministry.. Take this."

A piece of paper floated above the ghost's extended palm. Hermione looked at the neat and loopy writing on the page and met the big, doe eyes staring back at her. Hermione's were tight with scrutiny, Bellatrix's were bright and full of candor.

Still suspicious, Hermione flicked out her wrist. She knew that ghost's were essentially harmless, incapable of casting magic, but Hermione didn't trust Bellatrix one bit. "Smart," Bellatrix giggled out as Hermione checked the paper for any darkness or curses, "But, unnecessary."

Finding nothing, Hermione huffed. "You act as though you didn't torture and brand me just a few years ago." 

Bellatrix's eyes widened with a flash of emotion, but was gone too quickly to analyze. "Just.. Um, take it. Then make your decision."

If the cockiness in the spirit made her nervous, Hermione felt a flurry of mixed emotions when she heard the ghost's timid instructions.

Snatching the paper from the air, Hermione tried one last time to set the rules straight. She summoned a mostly unfilled piece of dry parchment from the floor and uttered, “ _Veritas Homonculous._ " Keeping her wand raised, Hermione took an intimidating step towards the ghost. "You even _consider_ leaving this room, I'll know. Don’t think I don’t see you as anything more than a sycophantic murderer. The only reason that I have been civil to you this far is because you are dead, Bellatrix LeStrange. Dead as a doornail. You're only a fragment of the madwoman you once were. An unstable lunatic who will be forever stuck in this state of limbo until the day that you eventually mist away into nothingness.” Hermione brought down her wand to shove her face closer to the ghosts and said darkly, “But, until then, you are under _my_ watch."

Bellatrix stared down at the ruined paper on the floor and said nothing. Hermione felt disingenuous but tried to not let that sway her. She would never consider treating any magical being so poorly, but there was too much being left unsaid and Hermione couldn't keep it in any longer. Her chest burned with self righteous heat.

Bellatrix nodded weakly and Hermione felt her mouth twitch with guilt. "Good." She stated with fading strictness.

With the paper scrap in her hand along with the ruddy map of the room that she just created, Hermione cast a nonverbal cleaning spell on herself. New distress ignited in her chest when she remembered that she hadn't used the charm since being on the run with the boys. Upset, she pivoted on the damp paper and marched out of the Room.

Bellatrix watched the girl wandlessly magic the doors shut. A smile crawled it's way to her face.

_Finally_ ! Bellatrix pursed her lips in a smile. _Some progress!_

By the time Hermione finished a quick, hot shower and pulled herself into her sleep clothes it was 2:53AM. She sighed heavily at Minerva's sleeping form on the left side of the queen bed. A book lay on her chest and the candle was still burning low on the stout nightstand on her side. Warmth bloomed nicely in her heart at the sight. Hermione's shoulders sagged for the first time since leaving the office.

Marking the page and setting the book aside, Hermione pulled back the covers and got under, dipping the soft mattress to the right. Minerva stirred noisily and Hermione extinguished the light.

"Mm.. Hermione?" Minnie croaked.

"Yes, go back to sleep." Hermione smiled and leaned over to place a soft kiss on the old woman's forehead.

Minerva let out a tiny protest to the command but her eyes remained shut. 

Hermione got herself comfortable. Once settled, her breathing grew deep and low to match Minerva's rhythm. The sleepy woman broke the air, "Did you open it?"

Minnie could hear that Hermione stopped breathing. "Oh, dearie, it's okay if you haven't. Me and Severus both tried our best and we couldn't.. You are free to try again.. next time.." Minerva felt herself losing herself to slumber. "..As long as you don't spend so much time there again."

And before Hermione could even think of how to begin to answer the question, Minerva was fast asleep.

  
  
  



	8. going to the hospital

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

The next morning, Hermione flew out of the Castle as quickly as she could. However, Snape and McGonagall would personally contest against this, considering the 11 hours of sleep she got first. Hermione still felt guilty for rushing out on them.

"Told you she wasn't dead."

Hermione nearly had a heart attack when Severus greeted her from the light lunch the professors' were sharing in the office.

"What?!" Hermione was thrown back into the memories of the night before. The pair chuckled at her apparent sleep addled panic.

"Minerva thought you might have keeled over while trying to pry those bloody doors open last night," Severus explained as Minerva gave him a pointed look. He kept going anyway, "I told her that she was being unreasonable. Although, I wagered that you passed in your sleep this morning instead, given the hour."

Minnie tutted at the man buttering his chocolate chip scone across the tiny tea table, "Give her a break, you big bat. She was trying to do _us_ a favour. You, on the other hand, gave up after 10 minutes!"

"Twelve." He corrected. Severus smirked when Minerva cocked her head warningly.

Seeing the easy banter between the two, Hermione's heartbeat slowed to something safer. _They don't know anything yet._ Feeling better, she greeted them with an affection peck on top of their heads before sitting down to summon enough food to conquer her monstrous appetite. Minerva poured a cup of tea for her and Severus absently slid the milk and honey towards her side of the table.

A soft pop and a heaping plate of blueberry pancakes and sausages appeared in front of Hermione. "Thank you!" Hermione called out to the house elf who apparated alongside the food.

The blotchy pink elf squealed and bowed deeply in delight. "Mopsy is most welcome, Miss Granger."

Hermione heard Severus mutter something about a missing thanks to them and she ignored it. "It looks delicious, Mopsy."

The elf beamed in return and snapped her fingers before she and the empty dishes disappeared. Hermione wasted no time in digging in. Severus continued reading his novel with a muggle pencil tapping against his chin. Minerva was opening mail while the Prophet hung suspended before her. Hermione missed these moments most when she would eat her meals alone at her flat. Not only was the quality of food here superior, but the gentle companionship shared in silence would soothe her flighty spirit in no time.

_Speaking of spirits_ … Hermione was wearing a new set of casual clothes and the scrap paper weighed distinctly in the front left pocket of her corduroys. Finishing up the last bites of pancake and jam, Hermione guzzled her tea to wash the last of her breakfast away.

"That's what you get for wasting all your energy on spells and _Arithmancy_ , girl." Snape never removed his eyes from the book, but Hermione’s cheeks darkened from the scolding.

"Did you make any progress at all, dear?" Minerva refilled her own cup and offered a top off to Hermione who shook her head.

"Yes," Hermione spoke hesitantly. She knew she couldn't lie to them, even if she wanted to. She was pants at lying, but she really wanted to test the meaning of the paper before she ratted out LeStrange. Carefully, she disclosed, "The key to opening the door is.. Arithmancy."

The pair moaned out again.

"Of bloody course, it is. There must be a thousand different combinations to try to unlock it! More so, if it's dark." Snape growled into his book and Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying that it was more like a several million combinations. Even more than that, she wanted to tell them how she still managed to solve it in one day.

Technically _less than a day,_ she corrected herself.

"Well, anyway, I have some.. Work that I need to get to.." Minerva opened her mouth to protest, "-But! I will be back tonight. Thank you for lunch, I'll be back in time for dinner." Hermione summoned her purse from the bedroom and gave Minerva and Severus each a hurried squeeze.

"Oh! One last thing," Hermione turned from the floo, powder in her hand, and addressed the professors. "Do you know where Neville might be right now?"

Minerva gave a bittersweet smile to the young woman before her, "Yes, Professor Longbottom told me he was going to St. Mungo's today instead of Monday."

"That's.. Perfect," Hermione replied nervously at the news, "I think I will pay him a visit." Nodding once, Hermione turned back, announced the hospital's name, and flooed away.

Popping into St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries’ floo lounge, she navigated past the busy staff and bustling public toward the In Patient Wing. Hermione knew that once, she might've been embarrassed to travel around the Wizarding World in her muggle attire, but she couldn't bring herself to care after her first year working at the Ministry. Her retro maroon high tops snapped against the tiles as she entered the Janus Thickley Ward.

_It's not like there was a witch or wizard left in the UK who didn't know I’m muggleborn, anyway,_ Hermione reasoned good naturedly. It was really the desperate paparazzi that she was truly sick of. She smiled to herself when she remembered Harry giving her the tip to charm her outfits so that every photo of her featured her wearing the same white t-shirt and jean combo. The dirt rags that would follow her every time she was spotted in public were furious for weeks after it happened. Harry suggested it as he noticed how his Auror Uniform lost it's novelty after the first month of his training. 

_I need to visit the boys soon,_ Hermione thought as she approached the quiet, familiar room, _they'll be thrilled to see that I finally pulled my head out of my ..’work’._

Arriving at the door to the room, she peeked inside. She let the smile ease off her face and watched the scene through the small window in the door.

Inside, she saw Neville's tall, firm form pacing between two occupied hospital beds. Hermione could see him speaking to the individuals as though he was working through a problem with them. She felt her mouth fall down sadly to the right as he stressfully tugged at his nicely coiffed hair _. Well, it's still worth a shot_. Composing herself as a friend who didn't just spend the last 40 seconds watching her friend like a total creep, Hermione rapped on the door and creaked it open.

"Hey, Neville. You want a bit more company?"

The young man stopped his monologue in brief confusion before turning and transforming his face into a wide, toothy smile. "Hermione!"

She strode over to the man who immediately embraced her in a hug so tight, he lifted her a few inches off the ground in his strong, joyous grip.

Hermione laughed and swayed with Neville as he set her down right. His kind, glittering eyes took her in, "What are you doing here?" He asked, still smiling widely, "Last I heard, you got swallowed up by your fancy new job..?"

Hermione flushed, "Well, I was given a proper scolding by McGonagall to take a break and you know how I am for following the professor's instructions."

"Well, whatever it takes, I guess. I'm glad to see you," Hermione smiled back at this. "Will you stay long?"

"Sure," She shrugged. "I'll pull up a chair.. How have you been, Neville?"

"Oh, you know, good." The pair settled themselves at the foot of the beds, backs to the long wall of magical windows shining in clear sunlight from perfectly blue skies. "Mum, Dad, my friend Hermione from Hogwarts is here," Neville announced to his unconscious father and wordlessly muttering mother.

Hermione's chest ached. "Hello!" She called out to the two, who did not react.

Neville turned back shyly, "Thanks," he said in a small, grateful tone.

Hermione shook her head to dismiss the significance and carried on, "So, how's the title of 'Professor' suiting you?"

He smiled thankfully at her understanding and for the change of subject. "Pretty odd, really. Sometimes, a student will shout 'Professor!' at me to get my attention and, I swear to Godric, I duck and look behind me as if Snape's ghost might be right behind me, ready to insult me for breathing too loudly."

Laughing, she lightly reproached him for disrespecting the supposedly dead professor's memory. They went on like this for the better part of an hour, asking about each other’s life and work. Seamlessly, they fell into an old cantor of being young and careless.

It was no wonder how well they’d gotten along after the War, though. Hermione was always a student at heart and Neville's confidence solidified as he learned to be a good Herbology teacher. After his apprenticeship with Sprout, she had retired and he was immediately given the job. Hermione would catch up with him when she visited Minerva and they'd grab drinks at the Hogshead together. At least four times a year, the survivors of Dumbledore's Army would meet there to support and celebrate with one another, too. Hermione, Neville and Luna weren't as extroverted as the rest and often would talk only to Ginny and the Boys. Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, and Ginny would take turns visiting other tables and greeting other members when they arrived with shouting and rough hugs and Hermione would pick at the label of her ButterBeer while Luna told Neville all about the current exotic creature featuring the Quibbler's cover.

After an hour of recapping the news in their lives, Neville stood up from his wooden chair and stretched. "Ah, I think I might fancy a cuppa. You want one, Hermione?"

Hermione cracked and rubbed her stiff neck from the long night before. "That would be fantastic, really. Thanks," She was curled up with both legs tucked under herself in what looked like an incredibly uncomfortable pose on the rickety wooden chairs the Hospital was known for.

"Three milk and a spoon of honey, right?" Neville smothered out a small yawn with the back of his hand as he asked.

"Hmm, yes." Hermione kept a proud smile on when he left the room. _He's really matured,_ she thought fondly, _Grown into himself._

Getting up tenderly from her chair, she stretched out all the awkward kinks and sleepy limbs. Hermione looked over to the door. Her mouth pulled and she turned to the two occupants in their beds. She drew the now creased piece of paper from her pants. Smoothing it out to see the diagram and incantation better, she checked the doorway one more time.

_It looks like Olde Magik, but not necessarily Dark.._ She looked up guiltily at Neville's loudly snoring father and mother who was slowly fading into a restless sleep. Her face grew strained and her mouth quirked hard. _But still, I've got to try._

Feeling horribly stupid and just a tiny bit hopeful, Hermione traced her wand in a wide long arch to the right. " _Guhoshavela ~ !_ " She sharply brought the soft brown light at the end of her Vinewood in a zigzag to the left, right, then left again. Twin beams shot out to the two patients and hit them, lighting them up puce. Light coated and soaked up the two in a symphony of spiking dirty hues. Air pulsed away from the two, rippling their gowns and sheets, throwing around their hair and sending warm casts into Hermione’s face. With a climatic surge, the light burst bright white and then shot off in all directions, dispersing with colour.

Then nothing.

Hermione held her breath and waited. _They didn't look any different._ Seconds passed.

_Well that's no go--_

At that moment, the door jiggled against the frame. "Hermione?"

  
  



	9. sike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all,
> 
> Hope y'all are safe and enjoying the fic. :)
> 
> Anyway, I'd love feedback since this is my first but also since I've been self isolating for 4 weeks now ( ? ) and miss human connection D:
> 
> Thanks  
> L

**CHAPTER NINE**

Tearing her gaze away from Mrs and Mr Longbottom lying prone on their hospital beds, Hermione saw a hapless Neville through the small rectangular window in the door. Rushing over, she magicked it open revealing Neville carrying two very full cups of tea in each hand.

"Hot! Hot!" He yipped. Taking the cups from him, Neville began shaking his hands up and down to cool them faster. "Sorry, Hermione! I had my wand in my back pocket and I didn't think about how I was going to open the door until I got to it and… Thanks."

Hermione just shook her head at his antics and casted a covert spell on the paper cups. When Neville finished soothing his burnt palms, he smiled sheepishly and took the darker tea from her. It was cool to the touch and he whistled, "Wow, Hermione. Nonverbal and wandless? You're getting scarier and scarier the older you get."

She chuckled darkly at the joke, "Well, if you found an insulating charm bad, you'd be down right terrified of what else I can do." She could feel the influences of Minerva and Severus in her humour while she boasted.

"Oh really," Neville countered, "Learn how to fly a broom yet?"

Hermione's jaw dropped and he laughed. "Whatever, Longbottom. Have you?" Hermione bristled lightly. She knew that her horrendous flying skills were just as bad as Neville's back in school.

"Actually, yes, I learned in my last year." Neville lost a little bit of mirth at the confession. "We practiced fighting while flying in Dark Arts.. No one could afford to fail anything that year, really.."

She saw his gaze grow distant and she felt bad. She reached out and carefully placed her other hand on his upper arm in support. "It was.. tough times back then, Neville."

Neville steadily reeled his focus back. Done with dwelling on darker days, he met her eyes and forced his face into a grim half-smile.

"Nev..ille?"

Neville and Hermione whipped their heads around at the noise.

"M-mum?"

Hermione's heart stuttered. She had twisted into a defensive position, wand instinctually aimed, but froze as Neville dashed past her towards his parents. Their cups clattered to the floor and tea flooded the tiles in an almost Ying Yang effect of milky and black.

"Mum! Mum, it's me. It's Neville!" Neville collapsed at the far bed to his mother's side, his knees dropped to the ground fast. His voice was urgent and breaking. Under the white, uniform sheets lay the woman with dark, cropped hair and pale freckles. She stared out with odd, distorted confusion at a wavering point in the air.

"Nev.. Neville?"

Neville was searching for her hands to grip and Hermione heard him begin to cry. "Yes! Yes, Mum, it's me, your boy.. Mum.. It's Neville.."

"Oh." Alice Longbottom's brows drew together at the cascading sobs and she tiredly cast her eyes to the crying man holding her. Neville had curled his body into the side of her bed and held her hand to his hot, wet face.

"Oh.. My son." She cooed and weakly raised her other hand to Neville's shaking head, stroking his soft, dark brown hair. ".. Neville."

Hermione's heart was in her mouth, feeling tight and dry. She dropped her wand to her side and walked stiffly to the bed between her and Neville. He was crying harder and murmuring I love you's into the bedsheets to his mother who just kept soothing the strange man. Hermione felt her chest hollow out at the broken noises and swallowed hard. She turned to look at where Neville's father lay instead.

Frank Longbottom looked to be waking from a fitful sleep, which was not unusual for him or his wife. His sandy hair was thin and receded, but he had fair skin and an oval face like his son. He seemed unchanged compared to his wife until a deep, vibrating groan pulled from his mouth. Hermione nearly let go her wand at the sound, but quickly took the smooth hand of the greying man into her two smaller ones.

"Al.. " Frank lolled his head from side to side in a struggle. Then, he snapped two wide, blue eyes open at his wife's gentle tones nearby. "Alice!"

Hermione could see Frank absorbing the environment around him. His quick, blue eyes putting the pieces together, landing on his captured hand, the delicate hands clutching his and subsequently, Hermione.

"..Alice..?" He demanded, questioned, and begged all in one word, staring desperately at a bewildered Hermione.

"Dad!" Neville had turned his contorted frame and leaking face to the bed at his left. "Dad! It's me, Neville!"

Frank switched his hard gaze away, releasing Hermione from his interrogating hold to the young man and finally to a dulled vision of his beautiful wife. "Alice!" The tension uncoiled from his thin frame. He hesitated, “ Neville?"

Hermione let go of the hand as Frank weakly surged towards his family. Thinking fast, Hermione released the brakes on the medical bed and supported Frank's back as she pushed the bed closer.

"Son?..!" Neville dove upwards from the floor at the call, swooping his father into a massive hug that forced him up off the bed a bit. Alice brought her shaking hands to her mouth, tearstained face shining.

Hermione stood awkwardly to the side and felt wetness roll down her cheeks.

_It worked._

_It.. Worked._

_What does this mean..?_ Hermione's mouth quirked through her amazed expression and she considered the reunion in front of her.

Neville eventually released his Dad from the uncomfortable position and backed up enough to see both of his lucid parents. Alice used every ounce of her energy to struggle out of her sheets and Neville quickly aided her as she rose from her bed. She took two steps before falling into Frank's arms, landing on his bed with fresh sobs. "Frank! Oh, Frank.. I tho-ught--" Alice quaked and buried her face into her husband's neck.

"We made it, Al. We made it.. It's alright.." Frank stroked the familiar locks of short, dark hair as with his eyes closed peacefully. "We did it, Al.. We were strong.."

Neville's breathing shook as he tried to control himself and rubbed the crumpled sleeve of his light blue dress shirt against his eyes. He took large wet breaths from his mouth and a bit of snot dripped from one nostril. His eyes were watery and red rimmed and focused entirely on the crying, lucid parents in front of him. Hermione stepped forward and gently touched the back of his upper arm again. Remembering her presence, Neville looked to Hermione who settled close to his side.

"Hermione.. They're awake." He stated obviously to the young woman.

In that single moment, the purity and wonderment so clearly stapled to Neville's stunned face made Hermione laugh. She didn't even realize at first that her mouth had fallen open to bubble over with the strange emotions until Neville's features twisted and melted into laughter with her. They laughed and shook with the aftershock of adrenaline as if they just escaped death together. Neville playfully tugged Hermione's hands and she jumped into his arms in a crazed embrace. 

"Neville?" The laughing stilled from the pair and they turned to the older couple again. Hermione slid back to the floor and flushed at the almost too intelligent watch of the Longbottom's on the bed.

Neville kept his hand on her lower back and brought back his shoulders to confidently address his parents.

"Yes."

Alice smiled at him like she could light up the world with her joy alone. Frank's face shattered, breaking into tears, but he bravely kept staring at his son's face. "You're.. Grown..?"

Alice studied Neville warmly, taking in every detail. "You're a man now.." She stated as her eyes traced the unique features that he had inherited.

Neville wavered in his steadiness.

"Was I.. Not born a man?"

Frank's watery eyes squinted and a great ringing laugh exploded from his mouth. Alice smiled toothily at Neville and Frank snorted ridiculously which made her slap his chest. "Of course you were! It's just.." Alice blinked several times as her husband calmed down. ".. How many years..?"

All at once, the room grew quiet.

Neville looked chalky and he worked his jaw a few times. "I, uh.. Oh.."

Hermione felt Neville deflate on her shoulder and decided to jump in. "It's been a long time, Mrs and Mr Longbottom."

Suddenly, two pairs of razor sharp eyes zeroed in on Hermione, making her wish that she didn't say anything.

"You're.." Alice paused, wetting her chapped lips. "..Hermione," Alice answered strangely, shocking everyone in the room.

"Who?" Frank held his wife tighter and took in the intimate hold Hermione and his son had on each other making Hermione’s skin prickle.

"Hermione," Alice repeated. "Neville's friend from Hogwarts.." Alice stared at Hermione with guarded suspicion and a tight tone. Hermione's back crawled. Neville turned to the girl in his arms to add another questioning look for her.

Suddenly it clicked.

"You were awake when Neville introduced us." Hermione maintained eye contact with Alice who continued to assess her. _She was awake when I casted the counter spell too.._ Hermione felt more than saw the way Neville snapped to attention.

"Wait, you could hear me all along?!" Neville's mouth hung open in surprise.

"It was.. Hard." Alice revealed vaguely with apparent distrust and discomfort. Frank felt the change in his wife and continued for her. "Yes, it was like.. Hearing noises while trapped in a different room.. Like waking up in an empty bed and hearing life go on outside the bedroom walls.."

Feeling the urgent need to leave Alice's unwavering stare, Hermione piped up nervously. "I'll go get the Healer! You two should be checked over to make sure you're both alright."

Neville squeezed her tighter and Frank smiled knowingly at the pair. "Hermione, was it? Yes, that’s a good idea. I feel like I've been sleeping for decades.." Frank smiled cheekily at the thought. "And judging by the size of ya, Neville, I might be right!"

Neville winced a bit, but added, "Oh don't worry, Dad. I'm just a massive seven year old."

Frank's eyes popped and his laughter rang through the room again easing the tension for at least half of the occupants. Hermione on the other hand, remained in an intense staring contest with Alice, one which she was losing miserably. Disengaging from Neville's arms, Hermione gave him a skittish smile.

"I'll call over the medics, but I'll let you be with your parents now," Neville opened his mouth and turned to take Hermione back into his arms.

"Oh, Hermione! You don't have to go--" Neville's eyes were large and inviting as he tried to change her mind.

"It's fine, Neville," She said softly and touched his upper arms reassuringly. " I don't want to intrude on your family reunion and the three of you have some catching up to do."

"Oh, Hermione, it wouldn't be intruding-!" Neville held her in place despite her move for the doors again.

"Yes, Hermione," Frank called out from the bed. Hermione flushed, acutely realizing that Neville's parents could not only hear their conversations, but _listen_ to them as well. "Any family of our son is family to us, too.."

The unspoken question was innocently tossed into the middle of the room for all to see. Frank clearly assumed that they were a couple based on what he had already seen, but the offer caused everyone else to grow flustered. Neville removed his hands from Hermione like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing and Hermione basically jumped back from him like he was death itself, creating the much needed space between them. "Err, Dad. Hermione is just a friend.."

"Ah, I see.." Frank said, with a smile and tone that said he saw the exact opposite. Hermione's cheeks were on fire and her chest was like ice at the scathing look she was receiving from Neville's mom.

"Uh, yeah. Just friends. Uh. Healer!" Hermione called out, more embarrassed than she’d been in years. She gestured awkwardly towards the door. "Uh, I'll get them right away. Right now. It was nice meeting you, Mr and Mrs Longbottom."

Frank chuckled, bobbing his eyes between the two young people. "Please, Frank and Alice is fine."

Hermione nodded with too much force and speed, avoiding Alice's dripping hot glare. "Yes, thank you.. Bye, Neville.. I'll be at the Castle this weekend. Minerva will know where I am if you need to find me."

Hermione all but ran to the exit, vanishing the spilt tea and paper cups with a manic splay of her right hand.

"Uh, yeah, Hermione.. Sure." Neville looked fidgety and torn and oh, so very young in a matter of seconds. "Oh! If you could tell the Headmistress the good news, that would be wonderful. I think I will be spending a few days here and I don't want to worry her!"

Hermione smiled back tightly at the entrance, halfway out and inching further into the hall. "Yes! Will do! Bye!"

Shutting the door and panting against the corridor wall beside it, Hermione let her head fall back against the stone with a thick thump. Her head was spinning.

_Fuck._

_What am I going to do?_

  
  
  
  



	10. tides a changin'

**CHAPTER TEN**

Descending the Spiral staircase of the Headmistress' Office, Hermione took off determinedly to the Room of Requirements.

_Time to get some answers._

When Hermione had returned to the school earlier, she was still in a state of shock. The shaken witch stumbled into the office where Minnie and Severus were going through stacks of resumes together. Slughorn had been begging for years to get a replacement. But this time, the pompous, old geezer forced Minerva's hand by sending out the invitations for his retirement party at the end of the last semester. Hermione was set to attend it at the end of the month, but only because Severus told her that she needed to make sure Minerva wouldn't get drunk in public.

So there the two professors sat at the massive oak desk with sets of cover letters and references to compete for the title as the new Potions Master.

"I'm telling you, Minerva. Draco is by far the most qualified person to take the position and I'm sure he would consider it, too, if you reached out to him with a decent offer.." Severus droned. He blew innocuously at his mug to cool his tea. The gesture was so fake, one would forget that he had to use muggle means of cooling the tea to drink it.

"Ah, ah," Minnie tutted. " Your days of being a spy are over, so enough meddling with you! For Merlin’s sake, Severus, you are basically influencing your family's lives from beyond the grave.”

Severus smirked at her paranoia. "Honestly, Minnie.. You think I would ever dare to try and influence you?" Minerva's eyes bulged at the man and prepared to give him a good tongue lashing when the fireplace flashed brightly and Hermione nearly fell to her knees when stepping out.

"Good Godric! Hermione, are you alright?" Minerva stood up in one fluid motion while Severus was over at the girl's side in a blink. Hermione grabbed Severus' forearm that held the wheel closest to her for support. 

"They're awake," She began erratically, to the confusion of her mentors. "They -- Neville's parents -- are awake!"

Minerva looked literally struck by the news. Her pale face twisted with a gasp and she surged forward, catching her body up on the oak with locked arms. "You mean-?"

"Yes!" Hermione's face cleared into a happy and disbelieving expression and they knew what she actually meant. _The Longbottom's are lucid._

Severus eyebrow twitched up at the information and his mouth quivered in a way that the women knew he was deeply shaken by the reveal, despite the consistently displeased look on his face. Severus swiped his tongue around the inside of his mouth. "When..?"

"Today! In front of me and Neville!" Hermione felt out of breath, her mind going a million miles an hour. "We -- Neville and I -- were talking and he got us tea and, and suddenly, Ms Longbottom spoke!"

Minerva pressed a bony, shiney skinned hand to mouth and tears collected in her eyes.

"And Mr Longbottom ?" Severus prompted. He went to school with Frank and Alice and she knew that they had been good people before becoming Aurors and suffering under Death Eater Wands. Snape had been horrified to the point of sickness when he heard the news about their terrible fate all those years ago.

"Yes, both are awake and well and talking and--," Hermione felt Severus withdraw into himself slightly and took in a breath to refocus herself. She clutched Severus's arm and spoke softly, "They know Neville is their son."

Snape pursed his lips and nodded. "Good." He averted his eyes quickly, but Hermione saw how they shimmered.

_He'll probably work through this later_ , Hermione thought, _but this is good news! Good for everyone!_

Minerva sniffed through a now runny nose but asked anyway, "How did.. Why did they wake?"

_Shit._ Hermione grew still at the question. _Fuck! What do I say!?_

Minerva and Severus watched Hermione go stiff and started at the same time.

"You did this, girl--!?"

"--What do you do--!?"

"--What type of spell did you cast--?"

"--Is this why you were looking for Professor Longbottom--?"

"--Did you use Dark magic on them--?"

"--Was this what you have been working on all this time at the Department of Mysteries--?"

Hermione felt like she was even more trapped since the two read her body language so quickly. Before she could think of better of it, she squeaked out, "Er, yes." The professors went quiet and continued to stare at her, imploring her to continue. "Uh, Unspeakables duties. Can't, um, speak about it."

Everything felt tight. Hermione held her breath.

"Blasted government!" Minerva roared. Spinning to face away from the group, she cursed to the window like the entire Ministry resided on the rolling hills just beyond the glass. "If they weren't so bloody secretive, we could've learned that the effects were reversible decades ago!"

While Severus was internally nodding in agreement, he noted Hermione's continued distress. He cleared his throat with only a little discomfort from the damaged muscles there, "Now, Minerva. We all have our secrets and we all go to immeasurable lengths to keep them.. Look at where you are standing, look at who you are with.. who wouldn't be here if it wasn't for secrets. We shouldn't be hard on Hermione just because she has been trusted with keeping some."

Hermione twitched at this. She was truly reminded of how protective Severus could be. Always ready to take burdens from others. The sentiment constricted her heart, guiltily. She squeezed his arm in thanks and he let out a small gruff in acknowledgement which made her smile a tiny bit.

Minerva finally turned from the window, seeing the young woman who just looked tired and stressed. The older woman softened, her fierce disposition fading."You're right, Severus. I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to insult you.. I may _disagree_ with our Ministry at times, but never think that it's ever a reflection on how I see you, my dear."

Hermione was warmed by the humility that these two incredible people showed her. She felt honoured to be allowed to see them so vulnerable. "I know, Minerva. I love you, too."

Minerva scoffed briskly and looked away, but Hermione could see how Minerva coloured at the endearment. _They're so similar.. Neither can suffer a compliment._

"So..” Severus cut through the softness of the room with the edge of his gravelly baritone. “That's what's been happening behind closed doors. Minerva, you cradle snatcher." He drawled to the embarrassed horror of the women around him.

"Listen here, you fowl bat." A gnarled, white finger wiggled at Severus' poker face from behind her giant desk. "I can't even begin to express my disgust at your implications, Mister." 

Hermione could feel the pleasure radiating from Severus who watched Minerva fuming amusedly .

"Aw, Min, I just think he's jealous." Hermione cooed patronizingly while Minerva cried out something like,' I beg your pardon'. "I love you, too , Sev-ver-rus!" Hermione pressed Snape's head to her chest in a smothering hug and pecked his head with a kiss.

"Hmph," Snape growled into her underarm, "Yes, what a lovely, little incestuous family we have."

"Severus! Get your mind out of the gutter, old man."

"'Old?' Do you own a mirror, Minnie?" Snape smirked.

"I would, Sev, but you'd break it." Minerva matched with a tiny smile, their banter easing back to normal.

"Well, anyway," Hermione interjected. "I think I'll, um, visit the Room of Requirements again -- to see what I can do until dinner."

"You better be back by seven, Hermione, or you will understand the depths of my wrath like no other." Minerva warned with her head tilted down at an intimidating angle.

"'Depths of your wrath?' Is that what you call it, Minnie? Fitting."

Hermione giggled as Minerva started to lecture Severus on his inappropriate behaviour and slipped out the door. As much as she'd love to spend time with the two as they ride through their strange domestic, Hermione had things to do.

_And ghosts to question._

She grimaced.

_Ah Fuck._

Arriving at the seventh floor hallway, Hermione paced to summon the Room. Stones scraped and grinded together to create the tall set of double doors from the night before. Her mouth quirked thoughtfully, taking a second to be amazed that so much had happened in less than 24 hours. She checked her wards to find that nothing had tried to enter or exit in the past day even though she suspected as much already. She took a fortifying breath and checked her miserable attitude.

_Time to be brave, little Gryffindor._

Nodding at the mantra that helped her through a lot of post War therapy, Hermione burst into the Room like she owned it.

"Oh, good. You're back." Hermione looked up to see Bellatrix LeStrange hovering upside down near the ceiling with a book also propped upside down on a shelf, her eyes never leaving the text. "Can you dry those papers now?"

Hermione was strangely intrigued to see that even ghosts obeyed some laws of physics as a waterfall of translucent locks hung towards the floor along with all of Bellatrix's skirts which she only held away from her face to continue her reading. Blushing furiously, Hermione gaped, turned away, then demanded, "Wha- Get down here, LeStrange!"

Keeping her eyes locked in front of her in a hopefully authoritative glare, Hermione heard the spirit give a dramatic sigh before moseying down to appear before the girl.

"Looking a little _bored to death_ there, eh, LeStrange?" Hermione couldn't help to note out loud.

"And you look like death warmed over, what's your excuse?" Bellatrix delivered monotonously. "At least this time, you're clothed."

Hermione's jaw dropped _. Touché, bitch._ "Fine." She snipped, twirling a finger and magically restoring the ruined notes from the night before. "Happy?"

Bellatrix actually squealed in response and gazed around at her sea of work, eyes gleaming. "I take it you tried the spell, hmm? Perfect!"

Hermione flushed indignantly as Bellatrix flew off to inspect and gently rearrange the papers that were disturbed in last night’s brawl. Watching her send small gusts of air to adjust different pages, Hermione grounded her teeth together. "More like counter curse! Christ, Bellatrix, the Longbottom's were under an Olde Soul Locking Curse for decades !?"

Purposefully, she stepped on top of the pages to gain the ghost's attention. At the sound of shuffling paper, Bellatrix turned back with a disappointed pout. "Hey, watch it!" She caught Hermione's unimpressed look and sized her up again. "You recognize Olde Magik, too? Hmm, perhaps you could be of use…"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably under Bellatrix's obvious and almost salacious appraisal. Her blood rushed through her body squeamishly at the constant changes in the dead witch's demeanor. "Of course I could. The language was unpolished and the directions were exaggerated as if..” Hermione cut her justifications short and glared intently. “ What do you mean by that?"

Bellatrix seemed only too satisfied by Hermione's brief rambling and her smile seemed distinctly wolfish. "Oh, you haven't guessed already?" Bellatrix pretended to inspect her short, ghostly nails while watching Hermione grow increasingly ticked off from the corner of her eye. "I'm going to come back to life."


	11. Ok but Stakes Stakes

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

_What?_

"What?!"

Hermione scrambled a step closer to the spirit in front of her. "You want to come back to --? No! No way. You can't! I refuse to let that happen!? It's impossible anyways--!"

Bellatrix heaved out an exaggerated sigh at the fragmented protests, which Hermione thought was weird since ghosts don't need to breathe in the first place, and dropped her impervious façade. "Yes. I know, it has never been done before, blah blah," Hermione's eye twitched as Bellatrix rolled hers and lolled her tongue out to display her utter boredom, "Yes, yes, but just because it has never been done before doesn't mean it's _impossible_.. It just means that I have never tried it before."

Hermione stared, hunched forward in disbelief at the cocky stance Bellatrix had taken. Noble features jutted out to an imaginary horizon, balled fists on the hips, confident, and challenging pride shining in her eyes.

Hermione began to sputter out a laugh.

"What? Oh, please.. If the best Wizards _in the world_ couldn't beat death, neither can you.. Plus, I mean, you've also died already." Hermione snorted. Her shoulders relaxing as logic kicked in.

"Piss off," Bellatrix snapped acidicly. It reminded Hermione of a self righteous teenager. "I am just as, if not _more_ than, capable of unlocking the secrets to fooling death as much as the next great _Witch_ or Wizard _."_

Hermione's smile dropped when Bellatrix emphasized 'Witch'.

Bristling, Hermione grew defensive and embarrassed to have her own bias pointed out to her. "Pfft. Awfully feminist of you, LeStrange, seeing as you’re a fascist blood purist."

At first, Bellatrix didn't respond. Her eyes narrowed and her face scrunched up. She seemed to examine the accusation critically, making Hermione adjust her grip on her wand self consciously. Bellatrix settled her arms across her chest and pursed her lips. Blinking frequently and hard, she spoke slow and bitterly, tasting every word she let drop from her mouth. "I.. Don't think.. I am… "

Checking the ghost's face for clues, Hermione could only read discomfort. The younger witch prodded, "You don't think you are a feminism? Or..?"

"No.. It's--" Bellatrix broke eye contact to search the air for some sort of answers. Wiggling her chin contemplatively, she continued, " I don't think I am purist.. Nor a Fascist."

_What?_

Hermione staggered backwards, knocking her ankle into the bed. "I find that hard to believe!" She all but shouted, too loud and uneasy to be taken at face value. Hermione's entire body screamed of weariness and threatened beliefs.

Bellatrix looked internally torn with herself, too. Although, she appeared more like it was a physical struggle to reflect while Hermione looked like she was trying to be anything but introspective. "Well, it's the truth.. I'm different than before."

Hermione halted her defensive retreat and drew her mouth into a very hard, angry line. Anger fortified her perspective against the dead witch. _That's better, Hermione, stick to your guns!_ "Oh, really? Why the sudden change of heart, Bellatrix?"

The ghost twitched at the harsh, mocking tone. Bellatrix worried her cheek again and looked up into Hermione's unforgiving gaze. Hermione was distantly aware of how small the being in front of her really was, but her inner voices squashed down the thought, storing it in her subconscious for later. Bellatrix seemed to weigh the consequences of the words on her tongue, working her jaw uncomfortably. "It.. Wasn't a _sudden_ change of heart.."

Bellatrix's form shimmered with the heaviness of the confession. "Anyway.. Ghosts are frozen in the state they were in before death, you said so yourself. I couldn't even make this up if I wanted to.." Trailing off, she looked at the walls around them.

Appealing to her reason, Hermione felt her guards lower despite herself. "And what was your state of mind when you died?"

Lights danced in Bellatrix's eyes. " I .. can't quite remember _how_ I died, but.." She swallowed and stared at Hermione's strange muggle pants to avoid her eyes. "But.. I died doubting my Lord.. And wanting more than anything to start all over again."

Bellatrix floated there, her long, traditional skirt rippling slightly. Her arms straining at her sides, the lacy fabric leading from her wrists back up to her tightly wound corset. Her hair was thick curls, wild and enchanting in a way that Hermione always hoped to have one day back when she was a young girl. Hermione noticed for the first time, that the spirit wasn't wearing makeup either. _Strange,_ Hermione felt something tick inside. _I've never seen her without the heavy charcoal on her lids or the dark lipstick, except for the time I was her.._ But even in her demure state, Bellatrix held herself with a regality honed by privilege and power.

Suddenly aware of herself on a physical level, Hermione was also immediately struck by the level of civility the older witch had treated her thus far. _Quite well_ , Hermione's brow creased, _especially considering how I’m decked in my comfy, muggle clothes._

Bellatrix watched Hermione and saw the conflicted flurry of emotions flashing across her face. The expressions wavered in and out of Bellatrix's favour, over and over again. Finally, Hermione quirked her mouth down.

"Even if you are ' _different_ ' now," Hermione recited steadily, like she was solving a riddle out loud. "Why should you get a second chance after everything you've done?"

The ends of Bellatrix's lips curled up slightly from the carefully asked question. "Because I won't be the only one getting second chances."

At the easy retort, Hermione felt with sinking dread that she was falling directly into a trap. However, an overwhelming part of her knew that she really wanted to know what those plans were anyways. 

"Explain."

The beginnings of a smile sprouted into full fledged beaming. Bellatrix broke excitedly, "Well, seeing as you came back and you aren’t leading a parade of Auror swine in your wake, you obviously know that the effects of the curse I placed on the Longbottom's was only temporary.." Hermione's mouth tightened but she gestured for her to go on. "Anyway, they're not the only one's 'spared'. Salazar, I'd bet most of the atrocities I dolled out since His return are actually reversible."

Cutting to the chase, Hermione demanded, "Like?"

Bellatrix chuckled lowly, at the girl's impatience, "Darling. I didn't even fight in the Final Battle."

"What?"

"Guess you couldn't sense Olde Magik back then, could you?" Bellatrix teased proudly, with an arched brow and waggling shoulders. Her smooth voice was low and heady like heavy elvish wine messing with Hermione’s system.

Ignoring the jab, Hermione shook her head slightly, "You.. Used a Doppel Spell?"

"Ah, heard of it have you?" Bellatrix's eyes flashed, travelling up and down the girl for what felt like the millionth time. "And, yes. It was."

"But, that means -!" Hermione's breath caught as her thoughts pinged around in her head and she suddenly felt afraid to voice them. But, through her haze of denial and disbelief, she saw Bellatrix's unwavering eyes, coddling smile, and patronizing nod. _Continue_. "You wouldn't have been able to kill people."

Even though her entire body was merely a pearly apparition, Bellatrix gave a gleaming grin, all teeth. "Correct."

Hermione felt her knees go weak. "So.. All the people in the Battle that you killed..?"

Bellatrix was the definition of pride. "I can bring them back."

Hermione felt the world take a hard turn on her and her sense of balance being pulled away. Next thing she knew, she was on the mattress, limbs askew and forgotten. Her mind was everywhere but here. 

_Fred._

_Lupin._

_Tonks._

_Fred. Lupin. Tonks._

_They can all come back._

The laws of Olde Magik were chaotic in their golden age. They were the earliest recorded spells in Wizarding History, almost three thousand years old. Back before institutions like Hogwarts or the Ministry, magic was uncontrolled and most magical beings were not educated. Common language was a big issue back then, too, and incantations weren’t based in Latin, but in sounds and emotions. Witches and Wizards were more like Druids compared to the populations of today. They lived in harmony with muggles, the magik was so lively and raw, that even muggles could feel the energy flowing through them, unable to harness it. But the magik was also dangerous, volatile, and difficult to weld. Most Olde Magik known today are simple curses and luck charms, since it was safer to store magical properties in an object and easier to trade to muggles too. Other forms of Olde Magik are now called Ancient Runes, that knowledge almost entirely cultivated and preserved by the first Twenty Eight Pureblood Families.

While their history fascinated Hermione in the Summer of her Second Year. The days in the sun and shade and easy breezes with Olde tomes of obscure texts and near meaningless applications. What shook her now, however, was the Fourth Law in the Four Laws of Olde Magik.

One.

Magik can be used by anyone

Two.

Magik exists in everything

Three.

Magik does not require language or wand

Four.

Magik is not the same as magic, they are incompatible and therefore cannot be combined

_If Bellatrix was only a Doppel in the Final Battle.. She couldn't have casted any regular magic, only other Spells of Olde._

_She couldn't cast the Killing Curse._

"Oh, fuck." Hermione droned out to the arched ceiling. She couldn't focus on anything. She had at some point broken into a sweat that covered her body in a clamminess that was oddly grounding. Swallowing with great difficulty, Hermione realized that her mouth had become a desert. Clunkily bringing up her palm to prod at her damp hairline, Hermione found the tide of her breathing and let it carry her. "Oh.. Fuck."

_So what spells did the Doppel cast instead?_

Remembering herself and feeling more questions start to jump and pop in her brain like over heated corn kernels, Hermione sat up a bit. "Bellatrix?"

"Yes?"

Hermione nearly fell off the mattress all over again from the closeness of the voice that answered next to her. Not even a full turn of Hermione's head brought the ghost in view. Bellatrix lay, horizontally suspended two inches above the mattress, head propped on her right hand, watching Hermione like she had been doing it for a while.

"It's like you can see the little cogs turning in there.." Bellatrix murmured to the girl in a manner too intimate for Hermione to handle.

She cleared her throat loudly and shuffled backwards a little, avoiding eyes with the witch who seemed even more pleased from the younger's discomfort. "I, Um.. Oh! Dinner!" Hermione's eyes flashing with the perfect excuse to high tail out of here. Swiping a hand through the air, a glowing set of neon green numbers read the time - 6:57PM. "Shit!"

Bellatrix maintained her lazily vantage point and watched with hooded eyes as the girl ungracefully rolled off the mattress and quickly stood in a cascade of sprawled limbs. "I - Dinner! Got to go - Eat!" The ghost then straightened and followed Hermione to the door who shouted her explanations as she went.

"Hermione."

The girl stumbled in her long strides across the paper and cobble. Hermione looked over her shoulder to see the spirit looking anxious behind her. "What?"

Wide eyed and jaw working itself uncertainly, Bellatrix asked softly, "What are you going to do..?"

Hermione grew stricken. Tearing her gaze from the ghost, she eyed the room around themselves for what it was: a study. _Books, fire, and bed. This is all that she has been doing for years.._ Returning her gaze back to the benign ghost of Bellatrix LeStrange, she quirked her mouth. "I," Hermione stopped and collected herself, feeling like she had been tripping over her tongue since coming here, "I don't know."

The room felt eerily quiet and guilt licked inside Hermione's belly.

"But," She began again to the downcast ghost, "I'll come back when I figure it out."

Hermione spun around quickly and exited out the tall double doors, but not before she saw Bellatrix LeStrange's face break into the expression of success, pumping her fist's into the air in her quiet win.


	12. Mostly friendly fluff

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

"You're late."

Hermione slid past the old, wooden door of the Headmistress' office as noiselessly as she could, but at Severus' terse greeting, she froze where she crept and dropped her head defeatedly _. Fuck.. Déjà vu, much.._ Rolling up her head to assess the damage, she saw that neither professor was looking at her but were both busy preparing for their meals instead.

Petulantly, Hermione tried defending herself, "By six minutes!"

"Ah, ah," Snape tisked, digging into his serving of mashed potatoes and gravy. "You forgot to calculate the additional fifteen minutes before the hour that dear Minnie spent lamenting her frustrations to me on whether or not you would arrive on time."

Hermione approached their little table and took her regular seat closest to the door. Pulling back the chair heavily, she plopped down even more heavily into her spot. Huffing, Hermione responded quietly, "I'm sorry, I've been very.. Distracted lately.."

Minerva stuck her nose up with a stubborn sniff and Severus gave a snort. "'Lately?'"

She shrunk into herself and Minerva caught the action from the corner of her eye. The older witch paused, eyes set before her. A moment passed and a glacier crack could almost be heard as Minerva broke from her icy demeanor. Sighing tenderly, Minerva spoke. "Hush now, Severus. You are forgiven child." She finally looked upon the weary girl and raised a brow. "Now eat, my girl, you must be famished."

Breathing in with a smile full of relief, Hermione loaded a plate with roast chicken and a variety of vegetables. With the tension lifted, Minerva started the conversation as she buttered a fresh bun. "Any luck with the door?"

Feeling the long day catching up to her, Hermione thoughtfully chewed her mouthful of cooked carrots before replying, "Still trying to run through all the Arithmancy sequences." She hoped that if she answered each of the questions with a mouth full of food or with too many words, the professors would refrain from digging any deeper.

"Are you sure you are looking in the right direction, dear?" Minerva offered, carefully swirling her wine then taking a long sip from the plump red liquid.

Hermione swallowed down some chicken slow enough to buy time. _Dammit. Well, honesty is the best policy.. I'll just walk them through my initial plan of attack, I guess._ "Of course it must be Arithmancy, I know I’ve solved the first two symbols so far because I could feel the give in the ward's magical pressure. The issue is that, unfortunately for me, the sequence behaves in a fluid manner that cancels out and adjusts the number of variables involved depending on the value of each symbol. Once, I determined up to five symbols before I realized the sixth condensed the last two and made the first and third redundant --"

Snape's groan could have rumbled the silverware. "Ugh, can we not talk about obscure mathematics at the table? I'm losing my appetite from just hearing about it."

_Yes!_ Hermione could barely hide her grin as she speared a bundle broccoli onto her fork. "You guys _did_ ask.."

"Well consider it answered." Severus drawled as though the effort pained him. Hermione cleared her throat to mask her giggles at the melodramatic man.

The trio ate in silence for a while. The gentle clinking of utensils on china setting an off beat tempo that filled the minutes. Hermione thought about her parents then, but quickly pushed away the thought, heart skipping from the memories. _I haven't had this much serenity at home since.._ Finding her next bite of chicken breast suspiciously dry in her throat, Hermione reached for her glass to suck back some water.

"So," Minerva began innocently, " met anyone.. Special at this new job?

Hermione breathed in the water and began coughing loudly to expel the drink from her lungs. "Min- Arhck -nie!" She whined with watery eyes. Severus snickered into his plate.

When out of danger, Hermione continued. "Please, Minerva, you know I don't want to talk about this.."

"Well, yes, Fletch is a bit too old for you, I'd say, but you always were much too mature for the younger boys.."

"Minerva!"

"All I'm saying is that you're a beautiful young woman who works too much and doesn't eat enough-"

"Oh, gods please!" Hermione cried to the ceiling and Severus shoulders shook.

"Ah, but don't mind me," Minerva voiced longingly. "I'm just wondering when you will provide me some godchildren to raise."

"What?!"

Snape finally entered the bidding with a falsely sweet coo, "Don't you want to make your adoptive guardians proud?"

Hermione broke her incredulous stare from Minerva's teasing sorrow to glare at Severus, whose mouth made an amused squealing sound at his contained laughter. With a slight bite in her tone, Hermione said, "Oh come off it, even my birth parents aren't asking about my love life anymore."

The coy warmth that brightened Minerva's face switched to surprise. "So, you're talking again?"

The atmosphere grew brittle. "Minerva.." The tone of the old Potion's Professor was soft but full of warning.

The girl shifted in her chair and looked back down at her plate. "Not really, but it's been better lately.." Hermione replied nonchalantly and without attachment, the fight in her fading. "I spent Easter with them actually and it was.. Fine."

Hermione was soon dedicating a great deal of focus to cutting up her chicken into tiny, precise pieces. Minerva and Severus exchanged a glance.

"Dear," Minnie set her silverware down beside her plate. She placed a soft, thin hand on top of the white knuckles clutching Hermione's knife. "You know we love you very much and so does everyone else. Harry, Ron, Ginny.. They would do anything thing for you. We know you did what you thought was best. You were very brave and very, very young at the time, too. They are most likely alive because of you. They're bound to realize that soon."

Food felt foreign, heavy, and flavourless in Hermione's mouth. She scratchily swallowed it down anyway. "I know.. It just.. It's so different now.."

The thin, boney hand squeezed Hermione's and she could feel the Severus' quiet, affirming gaze like the evening sun. Hermione felt simultaneously smothered and relieved by their attention. Her reluctance to shed her hardened exterior reminded her of the vulnerability you feel on the last days of wearing your coat in Spring. It may have been a hard Winter, but you don't need it anymore.

She hardly noticed how ragged her breathing started to sound. Clearing her throat, she tilted her head to reveal a shy face of weak, inappropriate humour. "I bet things would've been a lot better if they took the therapy with me.."

"Hermione, everyone would be a lot better with therapy," Severus lifted his glass of bourbon in salute. "And that's the bloody truth."

Minerva chuckled and crooned happily, "Guess Sevy and I just settle for liquid therapy instead,"

The two old friends clinked their glasses. Hermione let out a low chuckle of her own. "It's a lot cheaper."

"Exactly." Severus enunciated in vigorous comradery.

Hermione laughed out as the two professors downed their drinks in one go. "For the record, I don't approve of these .. habits."

"Hermione, dear, if you wanted a glass too, you should’ve just said so." Minerva replied straight and Snape boomed out a laugh. Chortling, he wheeled over to the liquor cabinet to grab the Peach Schnapps that Hermione loved and only indulged in on special occasions. Collecting three shot glasses, Severus called over his shoulder, "I'll cheers to that!"

Returning with all the items and pouring them each an exact shot, Minerva hummed a thick Scottish roll, "You may not be able to hold the professional title anymore, but good Godric, Severus, you will always be the one and only Potions Master."

"Shut up, you old cat, and drink."

All lifted their shots, dinner half eaten and cooling on the small table before them. "To liquid therapy." Snape drawled out, sounding ever like the infamous bat of the dungeon in that moment.

"To liquid therapy!" The women echoed and each tossed back the clear, fragrant liquor.

Warmth bloomed in Hermione's chest and she saw Minerva lean her elbows on the table and heard Severus laugh at her slouch. Feeling nice and limber in company of love, friends, and the creeping effects of the alcohol, Hermione continued a bit laggily, "Anyway, maybe I'll write them a letter to see how they are .. Maybe get lunch with them."

Severus wiped away some moisture from his eyes with the side of his calloused hand and refilled their shots. "You are much better than they deserve, Hermione. And if they don't see that by now, they are fools who don’t deserve to make you feel this way."

The young witch accepted the tiny glass from him and smiled at his rumbling and fatherly tone, "Thanks, Pops."

Snape gave her a quick raise of the brows and a wink and swallowed his second shot of Schnapps. "Well enough of this," He gruffed out, slamming his glass on the thin tablecloth, "Emotions and arithmancy are my two _least_ favourite dinner topics and we already covered them both tonight. So, as it is only fair, I will decide the next one. Minerva.” He turned, directing a very serious face to the increasingly inebriated woman. “You are to stop seducing Hermione immediately. I've seen quite enough and I am deeply disappointed in you."

Hermione snorted and sipped at the burning, sugary shot.

"I thought I told you that your perverted opinions are unwelcome here, you giant child," Minerva threatened around a rather large mouthful of wine.

"And I thought you knew that there are certain requirements needed to conceive a child, Min, and unfortunately, time's up, my friend." 

Minnie harumped. "I don't need to bear any children myself, Severus. I've had enough in my day," Minerva responded airily. She cast a wizened look over the contents of her Office. "Probably thousands by now."

"Minerva, the scandal. They'd close down the School if such news ever came out. Think of the children."

The older woman pointed a wobbly finger at the Cheshire grin. "Now, I don’t believe in violence Sev’rus, but if you weren't incapable of magic, I would have hexed you minutes ago."

"You wouldn't.” He bartered, “I'm in a wheelchair."

Hermione reheated all their plates with the stroke of a finger as the two professors bit out threats and refuted one another and continued to drink and laugh. All were full and buzzed by the end of their meals and Hermione stood up tiredly to summon her cloak.

"I need to go to work in the morning so I think I'll head home now. Send Menace for next week’s times."

Hermione leaned over to kiss the top of Severus' head and he touched her arm back. "You mean _Menses_?"

"You know, I love that bird, Sev’rus,” Minerva hiccoughed, “But you have a cruel sense of hum’r." She kissed Hermione on the cheek when she closed in. He only barked a laugh out in reply.

Last year, Severus gave Minerva the dusty looking owl as a present for her 69th birthday and she had fallen in love with the loud and affectionate bird almost immediately. That is, until Severus announced that he named the Eastern Screech Owl _Menstruation_ because he wanted to give her the gift of the chance at motherhood again. 

It only took Hermione several tries before she could revert Snape's hair from white to black again after Minnie's hexed him, but it took days to remove the long Dumbledorian beard from his face. She eventually settled to simply cut it with enchanted scissors. Hermione thought it was a hardy price to pay to continue the running gag between the two professors. Although, Severus had opted to keep the salt and pepper stubble he received from the ordeal. In truth, he was never able to grow facial hair before and he learned that he rather liked the look.

Hermione was certain that neither professor regretted a moment of Minerva's birthday that year.

"Expect Menses in seven days."

"Severus!"

"If you were more cruel,” Hermione chimed to the man who rolled over to the dancing green fireplace to see her off, “You could've given her a stork instead." 

Snape's eyes twinkled like his predecessor’s. "Ah, so you _are_ clever after all?"

"I am and always have been. But, you know they say memory is always the first to go." She shrugged with a coy smile.

"Devil child."

"Old bastard."

Snape's mouth pulled up in a tsunderous smile and Minerva barked out a laugh of her own, "Goodnight, Hermione."

Hermione smiled a full and wide grin and gave a small wave back to the pair. "Goodnight!" And with that, she left her two loving guardians in a swath of green flame.


	13. lol work

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

The London Office for the Department of Mysteries dwelled deep in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic. Hermione had first learned of some of the details of the floor from the DA's nightmarish escapade in her Fifth year at Hogwarts. Although, if she was honest with herself, she could barely remember half of it. Glimpses of frantic running and blasts of magic would flash at the foggy edges of her mind, spiking her heartbeat and tempering her pace for weeks after she had been cleared from St Mungo's that summer.

Of course, she knew what happened on a very superficial level. _Harry had a vision of Sirius being tortured at the Ministry, we broke into Umbridge's office to talk to him, we were caught.._ Hermione smiled a little as her modest heels clicked against the dark marble slats. She had tricked the horrid bitch into going to the Forbidden Forest in a feat that her friends would soon after regard as 'the greatest performance Hermione ever gave'. She had tried to be stern with this accusation, but with the adrenaline coursing so thickly through her body at the time, she too was amazed that she even managed the act in the first place.

“At least you know how to lie when you need to,” Ron had teased, nursing on his third Butterbeer with cheeky abandon, back when the gang would meet up on the weekly. He’d look all smug and red faced until he received a punch in the shoulder from a chivalrous Ginny _._ “You wank, what do you mean 'at least'? Well, _at least_ she did something, as we all stood in the room gagging on our tongues like a pack of trolls.”

Reminiscing on those lighter moments, she passed through the DoM's circular atrium to the door that led to a sleek black and narrow hallway. The hall contained one door on the immediate right from the entrance, but Hermione knew from experience that the number of doors varied with the amount of employees who entered the hall at once. Sliding her wand from its arm holster, she placed the tip in her mouth, withdrew it, then drew her signature on the inky smooth material of the door. There was a loud clack and she opened the door to her office.

Inside was a painstakingly organized space adorned with tall filing cabinets, high stacks of folder trays, and a huge, enchanted accordion suitcase next to her thin, metal desk. Hanging her robe, Hermione checked the mail slot fixed in the dark wall. She took three envelopes, two letters, and two notes to examine in her spinning chair. It was a comfy cardinal red leather chair, striking a bold statement in the middle of the exhausted grey room. Once settled, she rested her chin on her hand and hunched over the weekend mail.

The first note was from her manager, Senior Unspeakable Fletch Williams, wishing to meet up with her at 10:30am this morning for a progress report. Glancing at the large, oily black clock on the wall, it read 7:32am. _No rush, then._ Hermione shimmied back into her chair and took her time loosening the seals of the envelopes next.

Inside were academic journals, magazines, and newspapers that were shared throughout the department. This week held The Speculator, Inventors Digest, and The New York Times. Coworkers would often markup the articles with counterpoints, agreements, or drop Ministry secrets to confirm or debunk opinion pieces about the secret under-goings of the Wizarding World. It was completely baffling to imagine that some of the most confidential information in all of Magical UK were just penned down in a couple of magazines that float around the office, but Hermione had also learned quite a few new and morbidly fascinating facts about magic and its sordid history through these unguarded collections of laminated paper.

Placing the articles on the corner of her desk for later, Hermione moved on to the letters. They were two job offers, one from a start up potions business and the other an advertisement agency, both of whom would pay a pretty penny for the endorsement of the Brightest Witch of her Age.

_As if.._ Hermione automatically removed two templates that read out brief but polite declinations from a stack in the desk drawer. Tapping the papers to fill in the company names and addresses, the replies were sent off to the output mail slot next to its matching gold plated twin. She absently rubbed the corner of her palm against the raised skin on her forearm as she watched the folded replies whiz away. _I wonder if other Brightest Witches of their Age were continuously head hunted like this.._

A pair of wide, liquid eyes came to mind. Hermione rattled her head a bit, refusing to examine the thought further, and instead reached for the final note. She gave a pleased hum in recognition of Draco Malfoy's elegant script.

**So, the dragon leaves her lair at last? You must be starved after spending two months down there. Meet you at the regular spot for the usual.**

**D**

Hermione shook her head, smiled small and warm as dark curls danced on her head. Her friends had always treated her as though she sharpened her teeth on children's bones when she's in her infamous work mode _. They still check up on me, though, which means much more than any joking characterizations_ , Hermione reasoned. Lastly, she gave one last stretch, satisfied only after hearing a couple of pops from her back _._

_Anyway.. time to get back at it!_

Hermione was originally offered the job as an Unspeakable to tackle the mystery of Timeturners. Anyone could see that she has the resume to justify her hiring, no matter the task, but it was her in depth use of the device in her Third Year of Hogwarts that made her the obvious candidate. Senior Unspeakable Fletch Williams was a former colleague of Minerva's decades ago when she used to work at the Ministry. They still maintained a professional relationship as well as a fairly easy going friendship over the years, so the zany story of how Hermione basically aged a year from Timeturner usage held great interest to the Senior Unspeakable. Hermione held no known side effects to her repeated use except that she aged an additional ten months catching up on sleep.

Timeturners are especially old magic originating from Egypt. Little else is known of their origins or properties and the DoM have been studying them since the very creation of the Department, but had ultimately yielded little progress.

In fact, the sub department hit a dead stop after what happened in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries seven years ago. _There was a lot of destruction that day_ .. Hermione could vividly remember feeling the Olde Magikal sand sticking to her scalp and sneaking into her tops of her socks after the massive hourglass had shattered. It seemed everyone had sustained a million tiny cuts from all the broken glass that flew that night. _Not to mention the other kinds of damage that occurred.._

The first time she entered back into the Veil Room, she had a slight panic attack. The beat of her wild, bucking heart hard in her ears and she could all but hear Harry's scream ring out as loudly in the still room as it rang out in her mind. _That was the first time we ever met Bellatrix LeStrange,_ Hermione itched her jaw nervously. _She murdered Sirius that night._

Discomfort bubbled heavily in her gut. _No, not discomfort,_ she surmised.

_Guilt._

She shifted in her seat. Hermione only thanked the wonders of time and therapy for letting her walk through haunted places like Hogwarts and the Veil Room these days. Sure, she still had issues, but she didn’t go cationic anymore which was fucking progress.

Back in the Prophecy Room so many years ago, it was as though Hermione was a wet sponge, oozing and sucking back in her fear like murky dishwater. It was paralyzing to hear the disembodied voices taunting all around her and to witness the bobbing, silver masks tease and terrorize her friends.

Hermione worried her mouth downwards and sat back in her chair, away from the research paper she was reading and rereading with no meaning sticking to the words. _But she seems so different from the ghost I met this weekend.._

_And in more ways than one_ , Hermione rubbed her thumb across the line of her mouth. _The_ _ghost LeStrange is madly different from her Wartime persona._ She used to be all sharp edges with an even sharper cackle. A body twitching with the predatory derangement of a starved hyena. Hollow, disturbed eyes defined in harsh kohls. Dark almost bloody red lips that tore into wicked glee in a broken mess of blacken teeth--

Hermione paused. _Were her teeth fixed as a ghost?_

The young woman snorted, alone in her still office. _Of course I would take note of teeth._

_Well, that's a sobering reminder.._

With barely managed reluctance, Hermione turned from her fan of research papers to pull a fresh sheet of parchment from the tray. Opting for the muggle ball point, rather than a quill, Hermione began a letter to her parents.

**Hello again,**

_Guess I don’t need to address who or say it's me,_ Hermione internally grumbled, _who else would send mail to my parents using a fucking bird._

Hermione rolled her shoulders at the self deprecation and pressed on.

**How have you guys been? Sorry that I didn't reach out sooner. I really enjoyed our time together at Easter and my weekends are mostly free if you would like to go out to lunch together. Message me back by --**

Hermione's fingers stalled. The pen in her hand twitched. _They've really come to hate magical anything since the War.._

**\-- leaving the times that work for you on the answering machine. Just got one a few months back, after my visit. The number's the same, all you need to do is follow the instructions after the tone. Looking forward to your response.**

**Love you**

Hermione stared at the letter. Her eye's searched for mistakes but were drawn again and again to the final line. Her eyebrows drew together. _Everything is different now._ Sensing an inappropriate episode at work coming on, Hermione turned away from the words and tapped the letter which she heard fold itself into three crisp sections and zip towards the output.

Taking steady breaths, Hermione tried to internally congratulate her efforts although uncertain queasiness remained. The feeling was thick and mucky and she felt like trying to wipe it off her palms on her light grey slacks. _Never mind that,_ Hermione pulled in closer to her desk and picked up the papers. _You aren't getting paid this well to be breaking down in your office every other day._

For the next few hours, she studied papers on how Magikal Sands lose their time wielding powers when removed from their glass chamber. This was known before the Battle of the Department of Mysteries and she was warned about this before she was allowed to use Minnie's personal Timeturner. Anyway, with the access to the magical accordion that kept every filed copy of information on the subject,she thought that there was no real harm in going over the initial reports of all their findings to start.

The next report she read on was from the 1870's where two researchers first attempted to understand the malleability of time. Essentially, they were asking the big question: can we change the future or not? As an experiment, the researchers flipped a gallon in a room with one entrance, left the coin on the floor and locked the doors. The gallon landed on heads. Both researchers left the office with strict rules of not allowing anyone else in the room for the entire day. The next day, entered the room to see the face side up and went back one hour. After doing so, they picked up the coin and flipped it again. It landed in the exact same spot and on heads. When the researcher went to flip the coin across the room, his hand spasmed and dropped the coin in the same spot on heads. Reaching to pick the gallon up, the researcher lost their balance and fell over. The second stepped in to carry out the experiment when he also found that the coin kept landing on heads, too, and in the same spot. As that experiment continued, more and more unlikely and unfortunate disruptions occurred until they had to leave the room in order to seek medical help for a sudden bloody nose. 

From this, the researchers proposed that even with the aid of Timeturners the end results of our actions are unchanging. 

Hermione frowned at the conclusion. Standing up from her desk, she approached the smooth plane of the adjacent wall and picked up the thick white marker sticking out from its surface. She popped off the cap and drew a diagram to represent the old researcher's Timeturner testing scheme.

During her dissection of the report, Hermione rolled back her loose sleeves and untucked her crème blouse from the restrictions of her slacks. Deep in thought about the nature of the researchers timeline, she wrapped one arm around her front to prop up her left high enough to nibble at her thumb. 

She was considering the flexibility of linear time when there was a rap at the door. Whipping her attention away from the board, Hermione doubled her gaze back at the clock to see that it was 11:17am.

"Coming!" She quickly rolled down her left sleeve and busied herself to hopefully appear professional. Running a hand once again over the more unruly twists of her hair to smooth it down, she strode over to allow Senior Unspeakable Fletch Williams in. Outside stood a mousey man with honey brown hair in a pair of black horned glasses with warm crinkles around his eyes. "I'm dreadfully sorry that I’m late, Miss Granger!"

Moving aside, Hermione gave a nervous clearing of her throat but put on a kind and reassuring smile. "Please, Hermione is fine. And no problem at all, Senior Unspeakable Williams, I’d lost track of time too."

He let out a timid laugh that was closer to a wheeze than a cough. "Ah! Well, I can relate all too well, Hermione." Fletch sympathized and lay his dandelion yellow robe over the back of the only other chair in the office. The seat was black and stationary and he had to drag it from the wall to the center of the storm to lean on it. "If I'm any indication, then losing oneself in their work is not a habit that one simply grows out of!" He gave a good natured smile and sniffle.

Fletch was an older, unassuming looking wizard who wore his well loved muggle sweater vests under his Unspeakables cloak. His hair was thin and curved around his ears holding chunks of grey that spread from his scalp. Hermione admired how, despite the bashful way he held himself, he was an unrelenting scholar and powerful charms master. He held a surprising aura of youth in his hazel eyes.

"So," Fletch rocked on his heels and cast his boyishly hungry gaze around the room and feasting on the board. "How's the research going?"

Hermione smiled at the older muggleborn drinking in her work on the black wall. "Well, the research I have is obviously incomplete, but it _is_ thorough." She leaned back against her desk. "I'm looking at the timeline from the 1870's work and I'm trying to decide whether their experiments are worth recreating."

“Ah, very good.” Fletch complimented while peering at the rudimentary sketches. He noticed the comments around the drawing and chuckled. “Not a grand believer in Fate there, Hermione?”

She made a face at his turned back. “I’m inclined to trust logic and reason, Sir. Furthermore, and I don’t mean any offense, but whatever I ‘believe’ has little to do with my research.”

Fletch continued to follow the diagram of time and nodded at her reply with a faraway awareness that Hermione always associated with old people being condescending. "Ah, as do all great academics like to believe, I think.” He stroked his chin in a cartoonish display of wisdom, but the way he spoke didn’t bother her as much as she expected it to. “Personally, I used to think that Fate was a fool’s gamble. An romanization of recklessness and overall lack of preparation. 

“But,” He paused and looked back at her. “Then I turned eleven. And, just like you, magic was introduced to me and we were each thrown into this vast, wonderful, awe inspiring world that we once knew nothing about.” 

“I concede that magic is quite extraordinary, Sir, but it still doesn’t have anything to do with Fate.” She argued gently. 

“Are you trying to tell me that you, Hermione Granger, in your entire swaray in the Magical World never once considered the legitimacy of Fate? I _have_ heard of the encounter you had with the Hippogriff in your Third Year, dear.” Hermione’s cheeks burned at the mention. “And if that wasn’t enough of a compelling testimony in the case for Fate, perhaps you witnessed more than enough during the recent War? Regarding, of course, your significant involvement in toppling a Dark Regime..?”

Hermione fiddled with her sleeve as the man went on. The subject was touchy on it’s own, but using her past as a prime example for exactly why she was wrong felt oddly intimate. Not enough to have her draw the line, but she was definitely aware of the tactic. “Sir, if anything, my experience in the Wizarding World taught me to be a cynic instead. I was prepared for what occurred during the War because I learned to expect the worst and sometimes, I still wasn’t prepared enough.” At this, Fletch looked down with a solemn acknowledgement. 

“And while we’re still being intrusive, Sir,” He hacked out a bit of a laugh at that, “Why are you so in favour of the concept of Fate? I think it’s difficult to believe in some ‘grander picture’ when there’s so much bad out there.. I know that Blood purity was, and continues to be, a pervasive issue in our community. I bet that learning about magic and how to use it wasn’t the even hardest part about being Muggleborn back in your day. So why so.. _Positive_?”

Fletch knocked his chest with his fist a few times to clear his irritated airways and puffed out one last cough. After the worst of it passed, he let out a mighty heave. “You’re right on the nose for some bits. Being Muggleborn certainly had its setbacks. But, I also fell in love.” He wandered back to his chair in the middle of the room and away from the board and general clutter. “If it wasn’t for the fact that I was born to Muggles but grew up with Magic folk, I probably never would’ve met Riley.”

She watched the older Wizard as he seemingly grew a bit older by the confession. A part of Hermione was almost embarrassed by the display. But it was by the strength of his conviction that she suddenly felt quite humbled to have been shared such important knowledge. Head down again, his hazel eyes caught her darker ones and he gave a crooked smile, “Ah, I know you might not believe in Fate still, but be open to change, Hermione. You may be very surprised at what you can find out about yourself.” 

Feeling a little overwhelmed, Hermione broke the gaze first to turn and shuffle some of the papers on her desk instead. “Yes, um. I’ll try.”

She heard his gruff laugh at her awkwardness but his reserved hum shook her from her internal spiral. "'Olde Magik'? You think there's an avenue worth pursuing there?"

Hermione blanched and looked back at the man from behind her desk and saw his face stewing in consideration. He now stood before the furthest most corner of the board where she circled the words as a reminder to talk to him about her little dilema at the School. Hermione felt her palms begin to sweat. " Erm, uhm. Well, Sir.. There was actually something I was meaning to ask y--"

A distinct vibration rang through the office in two loud alerts. "My apologies, Hermione! Give me one moment, please." Fletch grab at his belt to reveal a pager clipped in a clear plastic protective case under his faded mint coloured sweater. Checking the reader, Fletch sighed and rubbed his palm against his cheek, bumping his glasses. "Blasted.. It's Riley. We were running through some legal work this morning, but apparently something went wrong. Again."

He let out a little exasperated cough and sigh. “Hell, if I knew a divorce could be this complicated, I wouldn’t have insisted on getting married in the first place!” Fletch let out a distorted breath and glanced around then back up at Hermione with two whiteish and furrowed brows. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I completely encourage your process and please, hold that thought. If I don't catch you before your day's done, I'll stop by tomorrow for sure."

Hermione shuffled a step before defaulting to a forgiving attitude. A twitchy one. "Oh, it's no problem at all, Senior Williams. I'll see you when I see you.."

Fletch smiled gratefully but his eyes crinkled playfully as he noticed how her eyes fell and lingered over the device at his hip. "Thank you, Hermione. And you can call me Fletch, I know you won't abuse the power." He gave a mischievous wink as he pivoted to the chair for his cloak. "And I'll be sure to remember to tell you how I manage to get electronics to work in the underground floors of the Ministry when I get back."

Hermione straightened and met his gaze with surprising fire in her eyes. "Not if I figure it out first."

The Senior Unspeakable gave a unexpected and charmed laugh at her challenging tone and gripped the handle to the door. "Til' then, Hermione."

  
  
  



	14. Its ya emo boi

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

Watching her supervisor leave to sort out his legal dispute with his ex-wife, Hermione smiled fondly at the door. The room was still again and it felt like time took a deep, measured breath, the illusion only compromised by the steady ticking of the clock on the wall.

_That could be me one day_ , she mused dreamily, smile dimming. On the one hand, she admired Fletch's undying passion for his work and the unapologetic energy that he brought with him. _He’s_ _kind and smart.. But also married to his job._ Hermione tried hard to not be judgemental, but niggling worries that boroughed in her mind years ago started to wriggle around in her brain again. _What do I want for myself? Will I grow old alone.. Or will I, too, wake up one day with a spouse who isn't okay with this lifestyle anymore? Fucking Professor Trelawney.._

Her expression tensed and her mouth pulled. Unclenching her damp palms, Hermione remembered why she got so nervous in the first place. 

_Bellatrix is still around and is using Olde Magik without anyone's knowledge._ Hermione rubbed her fingertips into her palms to disperse the moisture built up there. _I should tell Fletch, but .._ She leaned a hip into her desk again. _I'm still curious to see what other kinds of good deeds can come from her. If I keep quiet, I'll have the leverage I need._

Torn, Hermione looked at the clock that read 11:47am. _I need a break._ Snatching her cloak from the air and gesturing so that her work was transfigured into an illegible mess, Hermione lastly summoned a note to alert Draco that she was heading out.

Much like the Room of Requirements, all it took was a thought as she touched the doorknob to reveal a room containing a single floo on the other side. Quickly, Hermione called out and appeared in the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron. Strutting through the stale, greasy air of the pub, she transfigured her cloak into something more acceptably muggle before joining the bustling flow of London's foot traffic.

She could've apparated to the pizzeria like Draco always did, but Hermione secretly loved walking in muggle crowds. They didn't know her or cared a lick about her and she loved that. Tension began to leak out of her like sand through a burlap sack the further she got away from the Magical Sector. The air was smoggy and muggy, and her thin blouse clung to her lower back. Despite the heat she was glad she brought her cloak, it felt like rain was coming.

All around her, life went on. A man with deep bags under his hard eyes, taking long draws from his cigarette. A young woman tittering briskly to her friend as they made their way to their bus stop. An old woman taking stabbing, uniform steps to the bank. Hermione was brushing shoulders with strangers, smelling new and strange colognes, noting the changes in fashion, and breathing in the thick and lively vein of society that she grew up with. The act satisfied some long forgotten dream she had as a child. A fantasy of one day being a mature, grown woman, independent and confident in herself in the midst of the noise and chaos.

Continuing for five more blocks, she saw the familiar glass storefront with the garish red, green, and white themes at the borders come into view. Large, exaggerated letters above the restaurant spelled out ‘GINO’S’ in burnt out neon lights. Pushing the bar of the glass door open, the sensuous scent of fresh bread and herbed sauces greeted her nose happily.

"Hermione!"

With newfound lightness in her heart from the walk, she tilted her head towards the second last booth to the left of the long, slim layout of the restaurant. A shock of white blonde hair leaned out into the aisle. Her ease transformed into glee as she approached the spot. Disguised in a posh muggle suit, Draco Malfoy looked like a sharp, young business man taking a break in the city as he rose to greet her. He leaned in and gave a great big hug that she learned to love over the course of their friendship. _Why are all my friends so touchy feely?_ She smiled covertly into the royale blue design covering his shoulders, _and why are none of these softies in Hufflepuff?_

Squeezing tight, Draco then backed up to get a better look at her. "Your cheeks are looking ruddy, Granger," He said, pointedly, sounding like his former self. "All that walking is no good for your strict lock-myself-in-my-office-for-weeks-at-a-time regiment."

It wasn't any cooler in the Italian restaurant than outside, but the near futile pumping of the A/C purged out most of the humidity. Hermione flushed, barely detectable through already rosy cheeks, and turned to the booth with a small shake of her head. "Oh blow me, Draco. Did you order yet?"

He laughed as they slid in, Draco taking a hold of his can of Root Beer. "My, my. A working witch with a foul mouth. How are you ever going to become a good little trophy wife with that unbecoming attitude?"

Hermione cracked open her Ginger Ale that he had kept on her side of the table and smirked back. "I'll just have to ask your Mum."

Draco's jaw dropped and a second later, they both sputtered out some teenage sounding guffaws. "Hey, unfair and incorrect, Herms! My Mother is perfectly civil most of the time _and_ she never worked a day in her life." He gave a dashingly vicious grin. "And yes, of course I ordered. As if you didn’t already know, you cranky twat."

Hermione laid back into the taunt, plastic red cushions of the booth and sighed as the polyester creaked. "Point taken. And you know I love your Mum." Hermione tilted her head with a bashful smile and Draco brushed it off with a flippant flutter of his wrist. Smiling wider, she cracked her neck and watched him shivered at the disturbing pops. "Coincidently, I was thinking about my destined life as an old cat lady earlier today. You know my boss, Fletch, was just telling me this morning about how he's having legal troubles with his Ex-wife. It was like some horrible foreshadowing to my future."

Draco was posed forward, creasing the lines of his suit, and nodding along with the young woman’s story as she took no time at all decompressing in front of him. He pulled back at her conclusion to poke at his drink, dragging condensation across the retro speckled tabletop. "Ah, that's sucks, Herms. A shame for your boss, too. And his Ex-husband."

Hermione blinked. "Oh." A bit too forced.

Draco snorted and flashed his eyes her way. He looked away to the greasy, orange walls and rubbed the back of his neck. "What? Don't muggles have homosexuality?"

Heat crawled up Hermione's throat, completely unrelated to her walk. "No! I mean yes," Draco glanced back to raise an eyebrow. "What I mean is.. It's not really.. Accepted everywhere."

"'Accepted'?" Leaning on his elbows again, Hermione wondered if he knew how much he was wearing at the expensive materials. "Either you are or you aren't into some people. What else is there to get?"

She cleared her throat softly and glanced around the mostly empty establishment, her volume lowering. "Well, ah, when people with certain beliefs are in power, they can enforce their opinions on others." Hermione could now feel the warmth in her cheeks as she grew more and more uncomfortable with the subject. "Homosexuality was illegal in Britain until relatively recently. Still is in some countries."

"What?" Draco was floored by the news. He was obviously entertained by his unnaturally muted friend to Hermione's growing discomfort. For once, his eyes didn't constantly dart from thing to thing as he usually did while he was in the Muggle World. He appeared to be both captivated and appalled by the information. "That's absurd! That's like outlawing, I don't know, love maybe? Or sex!" His mouth hung open slack jawed.

"Well, so is oppressing people based on their blood status or their magical creed and yet-"

_Fuck._ She managed to stop herself, but the damage was done. The sentence hung unfinished between them and the air ducts droning above. Immediately, Hermione felt bad as the young man across from her stiffened.

Slowly, he reeled his loose arms and posture back towards his body, Draco cleared his throat, "Sorry."

"No! No, Draco, I'm sorry. I was being an ass." And then it was Hermione's turn to stretch across the table as she reached out to one of his now fisted hands.

Pale fingers twiddled with a practiced twitch under her tan palms in a way that Hermione knew and mourned. His pale lashes fluttered in his downcast. "No, you're right, I.. forget sometimes. Wow, I can't believe that it's been so long that I sometimes forget.." Draco met Hermione's worried eyes, a whirl of shame and regret. "I think I still don't know enough about .. How I might sound to you-- or other people. Salazar, I just went back to automatically lumping all muggles together like before."

"Oh, Draco. You know, it's okay if that feels natural.." His mouth twisted and Hermione began again. "Look, what I'm trying to say is that our immediate reactions aren't always good, but the point is trying.. To see past these assumptions. We grew up in very different lives, but look at us now. Look at all the things that we had to do to be here, _now_."

A couple muscles in his jaw jumped but he nodded.

"Yeah.." Draco's face morphed into something less strained, but just barely. "I mean, yeah, who would've thought?"

They exchanged bleak smiles. There was a distant ahem from behind the counter and Draco took the hint that their food was ready. Hermione watched from as the Pureblood left to take two pies from a large, greasy man who's name was not Gino, but owned the restaurant. She took the cool can of her soft drink into her left hand and felt grounded by its icy alloy. When Draco returned, he caught Hermione staring at her scarred arm.

"When I was a little girl.." Hermione started and Draco paused in his task of divvying up napkins. "I might have been 6 or 7.. But, my Aunt on my Dad's side came out to the family as a lesbian."

A group of rowdy teens could be heard swearing and laughing as they passed the store front, but the two sat starkly and sober in the cheap pizza shop. Their slices steamed away. Hermione wiggled in her spot and Draco stayed silent. She pressed on, "Well, I didn't know her well because she lived in the city and I only saw her when we would spend the Winter Hols at my Gran and Grandpa's place. I think the only thing I remembered about her was how close she was with my father. They’d always be laughing and whispering to each other and I would get so jealous that she got all his attention. Anyway, when she came out, our family disowned her, I guess. At first, I didn’t notice she was gone but I knew something had changed because the following Christmas my Dad wasn't having a good time at all and he left to go outside during Christmas dinner which was really weird. My Grandpa then slammed his utensils down onto the table and followed my Dad out and we heard my Grandpa yell at him. He spilled some red wine onto the table and I immediately thought my Gran would freak out since we were using the good tablecloth. But then, Gran started to cry and my Mom took me upstairs to go to bed even though I didn't finish my meal. 

"I didn't even know what being gay literally meant until a couple years later. We never spoke about my Aunt again and, honestly, I don't even remember her name. I think it was Catherine? Aunt Cathy or something like that, I don't know."

The air in front of them was saturated in greasy goodness, but the very sight of her pizza made Hermione's belly roll. A soft, cool hand caught her limp one and Hermione's mouth tugged.

"That's hard, Herms. I’m sorry.” He took a breath and Hermione was reminded to let go of her own. “ I think we're not as different as we may think we are." Draco had a gentle grimace on his face and it highlighted the tiredness that Hermione then so suddenly saw and felt.

"I hated her, too.” She started, “I hated that Christmases didn't feel the same and that Dad started working over the Hols so he didn't have to see his parents anymore." Hermione knew she was stretching thin, but it seemed like something important for Draco to know and for her to remember. "I know I've definitely thought people who were gay were worse because they were gay and what it meant to my family. I wished she just never said anything. I wished she didn’t ruin time with my Grandparents. But I knew that was wrong too so I just avoided the topic whenever it came up. I just.. I just have a lot of feelings about the subject."

Hermione raised her glassy eyes to Draco's kind grey ones. Understanding fell like a blanket around her shoulders with an almost physical weight.

"Thank you for sharing this with me." Draco said clearly. The earnestness made Hermione shy away and rub a hand to her eye to wick some moisture away.

"Oh Gods, I've been so fucking emotional lately," Hermione angrily huffed and Draco laughed to help ease the heavy atmosphere. "I know it's definitely the stress, but I think Minerva might throttle me if she heard me say that out loud."

The both leaned back and shifted their focus back to their meal. Finally taking a bite, Draco swallowed down his slice of Hawaiian before responding, "Yeah, I heard from Harry that you spent some time at the castle this weekend."

She nodded and washed down her vegetarian slice with some pop before nearly spewing it in realization. "Yes! I did! And you'll never believe what happened this weekend!"

"Wha-"

"Neville's parents woke up!"

Visibly affronted by his friend's interruption, Draco took a second to process her claim. Their plates rattled when his hands dropped. "What?"

Hermione nearly squealed as she repeated her message slower, "Neville," Draco nodded emphatically. "His parent's," Draco nodded with less patience. "They're awake!"

He leaned back in his booth, propelled by the strain of his arms. "Bloody fuck.."

"I know, right?" Hermione wagged her head at him and took a sassy bite of tomato and olive from her slice. She watched her friend smugly as he absorbed the information. "You're pizzas getting cold."

"Fuckin' hell, Hermione," Draco swiped a hand through his hair. "Who else knows?"

Hermione finished chewing. "Me, Minerva, a few staff members at St Mungo's.. And Neville of course." Draco nodded dazed, his pizza had exactly one bite taken from it and was no longer hot. "And before you ask, yes, it's hush hush for now. I'm sure it will come out soon enough, but Neville will probably like to control the spread of this information as much as possible until then."

Draco sat there speechless and Hermione took pity. She stretched a finger to his plate and zapped some heat back into his meal before sliding the food closer to her pal. "Gobble up, Buttercup." He shook his head minutely and grinned back widely. "Thanks." He lifted it gingerly and whistled from the heat. "But, Herms, how can something like this happen? It.. Wasn't just some miracle."

Her own smile faltered. "I," She cleared her throat and looked away. "It's classified."

"Herms," She cringed at his suspicion. "Did you..?"

She hazarded a glance and was immediately swamped with guilt by his look of unyielding awe. "Please, I can’t talk about it yet.."

He stared hard and after several seconds, Hermione worried he might say something or worse, not say anything at all. She was absently reminded of how cloying the hot air really was. "It's fine, I trust you." Draco shrugged and moved to dig in. Breathe audibly clanged its way out her lungs and she gave back a shaken nod. "Yeah, thanks."

  
  
  



	15. Messy

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Hermione walked back to the office after lunch with a mind feeling less cluttered than before. Surprisingly, it didn’t rain. After hugging Draco goodbye, she settled back to reading more Timeturner reports and writing down possible theories surrounding them. Unspeakable Williams didn’t return that evening or for the rest of the week even. The days passed uneventfully and on Thursday night she arrived home at a modest half past seven to find her new answering machine blinking a patient red light.

With her bag and cloak on the armchair and a loudly purring Crookshanks at her ankle, she approached the machine with calm purpose. Hermione was breathing easier these days but she still took a fortifying breath and a quick shake of her sweaty palms before she pressed the button on the device to play the message. Just as hastily as she clicked, she withdrew her nervous fingers as if the plastic could burn. There was an unpleasant tone before choppy static and the garbled voice of Jean Granger could be heard from the slots.

“Oh, okay. I guess that was the beep..” There was a distant register in the background of the call. “No, I don’t know how long the message can be-- oh, stop it. Hi, um, dear! Got your.. _Letter_ today and it’d be lovely to.. Hang out with you again,” Hermione grimaced at the awkward and clear discomfort in her mother’s voice. “Yes, but we already made plans with the Wilkinson’s this weekend so perhaps, um, next week-- or month we’ll be free. Yes, uh, we’ll call you back when we know for sure.” Another pause and indistinct whispers. “Yes, bye!”

A deeper beep than the first sounded. 

_That’s it?_

Hermione stood there at her kitchen counter and stared at the machine. She sniffed, clearing something painful building in her throat and sighed raggedly. The purring flickered by her feet which led to a thump as Crooks mounted the countertop to nestle up to her shoulder. Unseeingly, her hand automatically rose to scratch at his head and she could feel his soft fur and contented rumble against her palm.

“Thanks, Crooks.” A nippy mowr was his reply and she smiled. “Such a good man..”

_Enough of this_ , she pushed off of the counter and began towards the washroom. Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she had a nice bath and figured that that was her cue to draw one. She twitched her fingers to plug the tub and turn the facets. Turning away from the washroom, she manually started up her cd player to start the motown she kept from her old house. It was the light jazzy stuff that could always relax her, the same music her parents used to play after dinner when the three of them would retire to the living room together in the evenings. But that wasn’t worth thinking about right now. Off came the clothes and then a summoned wine cooler from the fridge. One generous helping of bubblebath later and Hermione was soon sitting in the tub, sippin on the chilled Pinot and peach juice while a trumpet burst colour through the air of her steamed apartment. 

The sharp, sweet taste rolled in her mouth and down her throat. The water was too hot but she ignored the stinging for those first few minutes. Eventually, she conceded by propping up her feet on the opposite rim while her neck was supported by a few bundled hand towels restricting the heat to just her middle. The steady expansion and expulsion from her lungs disrupted the froth of bubbles, spritzing a cacophony of flowery scents into air around her face. 

Hermione tried to be present in the moment because it was, in fact, a rather nice moment. She shifted her focus toward untensing her muscles, beginning with a wiggle of her toes. She submerged them in the water again while trying to relax the rest of her body, taking swigs of her cooler as she went. Her frustration stuck to the inside walls of her skull but she was in no mood to try to figure out why. Needing to cool down again as sweat beaded on her hairline and upper lip, she propped her feet up like before and tried lastly to relax her mind. The hot water had started to prune her toes and Hermione dazed off looking at the wrinkled little, raisins at the end of her feet. Cool air circulated through the apartment and through the open door of her washroom. She smirked lazily to herself, thankful that she lived alone.

Then her peaceful moment was extinguished. _Alone_ . Hermione’s lips fell from their knowing curl with a droop. She expelled the air from her nose and took a mighty draw from her cooler leaving less than a mouthful inside. _Liquid therapy, eh?_

Knowing what she’d like to do next, Hermione tucked down and submerged herself fully in her magically expanded tub. She rose to the sound of the sloshing water and grabbed the scrubbie on the rim to start cleaning herself. 

She felt bad again. Hell, she felt lonely. And she didn’t want to sit alone, in her lonely apartment listening to fucking jazz all by herself for a minute longer. Finishing up, Hermione got to her feet, water splashing and climbing at the rim, and caught the large, pale pink towel that rushed towards her from the sink. She wrapped the fluffy mass around herself and stepped out of the tub. Easily, she wicked away all the excess water and hugged the towels dry softness before getting in front of a pen and sheet of paper left on the bathroom sink. _Good thing I got them everywhere._

Thinking a few steps ahead, she wrote to Fletch to let him know that she wouldn’t be coming to work tomorrow and tossed it in her fireplace to send to the Ministry. Next, she went into her bedroom. Instead of her using her emergency clothes like last weekend, she summoned an overnight bag from the closet and began to fill it. Once she was happy with the amount of clothes she packed, Hermione topped the bag with a couple of reports she brought home earlier in the week and a book for Severus to peruse on Indian cooking. She threw on a pair of comfortable grey sweats, a simple white t-shirt and an oversized faded green knitted jumper. Pivoting towards the fireplace, she marched over and reached for the powder before hesitating. Hermione quickly rummaged through her little kitchen for whatever bottle of alcohol she could find and decided on some unopened Muggle rum. 

“All set,” Hermione said with confidence and whirled back again to leave. “Won’t be back till Sunday, Crooks! Be a good man~!” 

There was an almost sassy yowl in return from outside her window, and so Hermione took in one last scope of her apartment before a wall of emerald flames consumed her vision. 

Stepping directly into the Headmistress’s office felt good and the immediate smell of dust and weathered parchment swirled contentedly through her nose and into Hermione’s chest. “Minnie! I thought I’d come by early.” She yelled, sagging her stiff shoulders in the comfortable atmosphere.

The main office was empty. The embers were low and barely breathing behind her and the desk looked tidy. Hermione looked at the time and her wand read that it was five minutes to nine. Maroon High Tops took tentative steps to the chamber that opened up to Minerva’s bedroom. She pushed at the polished wood to hear heavy breathing on the other side.

Minnie lay on the bed, _her usual side_ Hermione noted, curled up with Hermione’s pillow in her arms. She lay fully clothed and fast asleep, ragged breaths wheezing in and out of her chest like each gulp was dragged over gravel. 

Hermione stepped onto the off-red shag carpets and placed her duffel bag on the ottoman next to the door. Upon closer inspection, she saw the crumpled, light blue handkerchief in Minnie’s quivering hand. The robin’s egg blue struck a pang in her chest. She normally saw it whenever Min would tear up randomly during the days after the War or right before she’d dash away to deal with her crumbling strength in privacy. 

She took a step back and Minerva continued her restless sleep. Hermione’s mouth wavered and quirked down. Moving forward again, she crossed around to the far side of the bed and placed a gentle kiss on the crown of her mentor’s forehead. “There, there. I’ll let you sleep, Min.”

Backing off and out of the room, she shut the door to what sounded like much lighter snoring than before. Hermione blinked and released her final shallow breath, no longer concerned on accidently waking Minnie. She then hummed to herself and nibbled on her thumb. _I’m not tired and I don’t want to wake her.. Now what?_

Hermione looked around, briefly considering continuing her Timeturner research before remembering that she left her bag inside the chambers. Her eyes wandered around the dark room. _Could restart the fire, maybe help myself to a drink._ Her eyes wandered, looking for something to do. _The fireplace, the door, the desk, the liquor cabinet, the sitting area.. The door._

_The doors to the Room of Requirements._ As soon as the thought floated through her mind, she knew that going to the Room of Requirements was ultimately the thing she was going to do tonight. 

And soon enough, regret. 

“Ah, there’s a good poppet! Ready to get started?”

Hermione had barely entered the room before the cheeky ghost had a saucy quip out her way. The fire chirped happily in the hearth and the room was refreshingly cool as usual. She ground her teeth together in irritation despite knowing fully well what a bad habit it was. Bellatrix appeared to have sprawled herself on the bed in boredom and Hermione barked back, “Don’t you just float on top of the fucking thing? What’s the point of the bed-- do you even feel it?”

Bellatrix lay there and rolled her head towards the girl with exasperation and an accompanying eye roll. “Language.” She could felt her pulse in her face. “And what is it that you assume you’ll win when arguing with a ghost, hmm? All things considered, I’ve already lost.”

“Grr-- ugh!” It was like talking to a snarky little brat, but worse. _A murdering psychotic brat._ “Enough. You know what? I’ve actually had it with you!” Hermione turned sharply in place to march out the door. She didn’t know exactly what she was going to do next, but telling Minerva and Severus the truth seemed like a pretty good idea right about now.

“Wait, wait! Godric, you’re a smidge uptight today.. You know, more than usual..” She rose up and away from the bed with a weirdly coddling, fussy tone despite the sting of her words. “What’s the matter, love?”

Hermione snorted angrily, suspecting another backhanded remark on her sour demeanor. But after a few more seconds passed, she looked back to realize it was an honest question. Bellatrix held a steady gaze in a passive tilt that almost looked like a concern. She shuffled from the strange intensity it brought. “Um, well, you remember that _you_ have tortured me?”

Bellatrix grimaced briefly. “Right. My bad.”

Hermione gaped, before her face hardened again, a pilot light igniting in her belly. “You hunted down me and my friends! You took us hostage and let my friends listen as you hurt me!?”

She stalked back towards the ghost low and slow. Bellatrix bobbed next to the mattress with her arms casually crossed in front of her. She hissed a breath through her teeth and shrugged, stoking the flame leaping into Hermione’s chest.

“You tried to kill me-- and all the people we rescued from the cellar, the ones that _you_ imprisoned. _And_ you actually _did_ kill someone!”

Bellatrix blinked. “Which one?”

Hermione nearly screamed. “Dobby!!”

“Pfft, well, I suppose if you do lose one of your merry band, at least you’ve got to be thankful it was only the elf.” Bella supplied. Hermione’s jaw dropped and Bella winced as the crack in the girl's neck that echoed through the room with the severity that Hermione snapped it to. “Only.. ‘only the elf’? ‘Only the ELF?!’” Her voice was breathy and her sentences were choppy from the anger. She bolted forwards in strong strides over towards the dead witch. “How can you say that?!”

Bellatrix brought up her hands defensively as the young witch stormed her. “Hey there, dearie! How about we take a brea--”

“NO!” Hermione shouted hoarsely, eyes tearing up. “Dobby was our friend! He was kind and caring and only wanted the best for people!”

“I’d beg to differ. It tried to drop a bloody chandelie-- WOAh!” Bella instinctively ducked as Hermione swung hard at her face. “Great Merlin, girl!” 

“You had me at knife point ! You fought me, Luna, and Ginny--and tried to kill her in front of her Mum ! Thank God Molly sent you to the grave first!” Hermione's voice sounded unnaturally deep and raw. She was half blind with tears and quickly followed the backpedaling ghost, eating up the space between them. 

“What? Oh, that last one wasn’t actually me though--Hey!” Hermione tried to grab her by the frills of her corset but only caught air as Bellatrix swooped back and veered left to avoid the nearing fireplace. “You know I _am_ a _gho--”_

“You want me to help you return the ones that YOU killed in the Final Battle. You _KILLED_ THEM!” 

All too quickly, Hermione turned too sharply in a lunge for the woman and slipped forward on one of the pieces of paper on the ground. Bellatrix tried to intervene but was unable. Two loud cracks clapped through the air when Hermione hit the floor, connecting her left knee and elbow hard to the cobblestones. She sucked in a high keening whine at the fall and withered into herself. 

The silence that followed rang with the accusations shouted seconds before. The fire snapped in the cool, spacious study making it feel distinctly unoccupied in the growing quiet.

“Hermione? Are.. you alright-?” Bella glided down slowly to the quaking girl. Closer now, Bella soon realized that the girl was crying. “Oh. Perhaps I can get the Headmaster--”

“He’s dead.” Hermione croaked out then continued to muffle her sobs facedown on the cobblestones. Bellatrix felt the burning need to scratch at the back of her head but resisted the action.

“Well I know that Dumbledore is de-,” Bellatrix cleared her throat. “Gone.”

“No, it’s--” Hermione sniffled loudly, “Professor McGonagall is Headmistress now.” Bellatrix perched near the girl’s whimpering frame. The vulnerable, childlike wheezes and heavy sniffles mixed with the popping of the crackling hearth brought back cold, uncomfortable memories for the ghost. _Lying alone in my room, my sisters distant and weary, running away when I needed them the most.._ Bellatrix was surprised to _feel_ the memories so vividly and began to blink rapidly. She realized then that she didn’t know what to say. The crying continued and Bellatrix had just decided to say something when Hermione started instead. “As if you would actually get her.. You’d blow your cover, remember?”

Bellatrix gave a bitter sweet grimace to the back of Hermione’s head, glad that she spoke first. Frothy curls extended in all directions like a flopped, brown mop on the floor and it almost made Bellatrix smile by how pathetic she looked. “I could always ask a painting to get her. The Black’s have a long lineage of distinguished ancestors..”

Hermione’s snort sounded like a carnage filled garbage disposal. Bellatrix winced at the noise. “Figures. Purebloods really can get away with anything.”

“Oy,” Hermione tilted her head to the side at the exclamation to see Bellatrix’s raised brows. “Not every Pureblood family is like _my_ family.” 

There was an air of pride in her delivery and Hermione gave a breathless laugh. Bellatrix watched the girl pick herself up while she gently floated beside her, curled up in a small, white ball. The fight seemed to be leaving her and Hermione pushed herself up, settling tenderly on her haunches. “Yeah, thank the Lord for that.”

Her eyes narrowed at the jab. “Merlin, girl.” Bellatrix looked away and crossed her arms, prickling under the young witches gaze. “I’m sure _your_ family must be a bit touched, too.”

The tears that were just starting to dry on Hermione’s face pulled at her skin as tension ripped through. Almost immediately, Bella realized her snark once again came too soon and fell much too close to the mark. 

Hermione then punched Bellatrix in the face.

  
  



	16. read her to filth mama

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

“Bloody f-f-fuck!” Bellatrix’s head whipped back, grabbing hard at her nose. Papers scattered and flapped away from the spirit as she shot back towards the looming bookshelves. “Sh-shite!”

Hermione’s fury was replaced with shock. “What the fuck?” She stared wide eyed at Bellatrix before glancing at her hand. There was a distantly familiar stinging across the band of her knuckles. A double take back up at the writhing ghost showed Bellatrix spitting out jagged, muffled swears into her hands. “What the fuck?”

Bellatrix growled something angrily still clamping and clawing at her mouth and nose area.

“What did you say?” Hermione asked breathlessly, still amazed at what just occurred. 

“I said.” Bellatrix removed her hands from her face and seethed, her eyes wild. “What the _fuck_ was that?”

Hermione looked starstruck, her mouth had fallen into a happy little ‘o’ shape, making Bellatrix raise her hackles at her like a snarling dog. “I..” She tried to wet her lips. “A punch. I punched you..?” Hermione began to smile hysterically, while her eyebrows flexed in confusion. Suddenly, her attention dove to the floor. In the papery mess, she desperately sifted through the sheets like a kitten attacking a blanket. “I punched you ~ !”

“Yes,” Bellatrix watched the strange display with disgust. “I know what a punch feels like, you daft girl. You don’t have to sound so damn pleased about it either.” She tucked her knees into her chest with a pout when Hermione barely paid her any mind.

“No, no, that’s it! Yes!” Hermione flipped over a sheet that was sparsely filled and instantly conjured up a pen into her hand. “What _did_ it feel like?”

Bellatrix began to sneer at the question when a spark lit up the ghost’s eyes. The resentment wicked off her face and her expression grew thoughtful though guarded. “It felt.. Like a warm, boney fist hit me,” She grew a tone, “In the face.”

“Good, good..” Hermione jotted down the words. “What else?” 

Bellatrix sagged moodily and slumped on the floor. Huffing, she began picking at her dress. “Yes, well.. It had momentum. I felt my face give to the force of it and my body followed, but not like usual.” She touched her face with twitching fingers, caught between the pain and the intrigue. Her gaze drifted with some distant thought. “Normally, I’d glide like something singular and whole. This time, however, it was like gravity _held_ me down a bit or that I had a sort of weight to my being that kept me somewhat grounded as my upper half absorbed more of the throw.”

“That’s good..” She diligently recorded the information on the sheet. “Maybe you were relaxed even though some part of you tensed from the strike.” Hermione offered.

“Yes, perhaps. And, it felt strange,” Her arms uncoiled from her body and she slowly whirled closer to her. “I mean really, after this long, I have no reason to tense anymore. This state,” She gestured, “It’s much like being in water, I suppose. Except, not really, I have no external or internal tug that pulls me up or down.”

Hermione leaned her face closer to the ghost, unaware of herself as her mind buzzed. “Fascinating..” 

“Oy!” Bellatrix snapped sharply and backed up again, eyeing Hermione accusingly. “Excuse me, _Miss_ . Did you forget that you just _struck me?”_ She recoiled from the thunderous tone Bellatrix employed and stumbled back. The ghost had a no nonsense look on her face that instantly reminded Hermione that Bellatrix once lived like royalty. She blushed hard from the reprimand. “I- well, I--”

“-- You _hit me_.” She finished with an indignant tilt of her head. “Why, yes. Yes, you did.”

Hermione shimmed back enough to press into the side of the mattress behind her. She wasn’t sure if she felt supported or trapped by it. The spacious room suddenly felt too small. She shrugged her shoulders nervously and faked bravo instead. “So what? You can’t possibly expect me to apologize..?”

She bared her healthy, white teeth savagely in response. “I do.”

_Her teeth really are nice now,_ Hermione tried to toss this thought from her mind as soon as she could. She scoffed and broke eye contact. Heat crawled everywhere and the room was too hot again despite it’s permanent ghostly chill. She felt her scalp prick with sweat and rose a hand to sweep away some loose curls that adhered to it when wracking pain rang out from her wrist. She leaned forward with a hiss as she clutched the hurt arm.

Despite the pain, curiosity slithered through and she discreetly peeked at the other woman. She saw her stare at the injured limb with a strange expression. As if she could sense it, Bellatrix quickly met her gaze making Hermione look away just as fast. She recognized the same impatient look of ‘I’m waiting’ from before and grit her teeth uneasily.

The atmosphere was pithy and tight between Hermione’s slightly strained breathes. The papers shifted below her weight and the pool gurgled in the corner and the two stubborn witches opposed each other, both plopped on the floor and unyielding.

After an eternity, Hermione sighed, “Okay, fine. You know what, I’m _sorry._ ” She bit out and heard a loud snort back. _Something tells me that she didn’t find my apology genuine._ Ignoring her, she took out her wand and cast a healing spell. Her leg twitched with a sting at her knee as she moved to work on the scratch that was exposed through the fresh tear in her pant leg. Blood smeared on the grey sweats making it look black in the firelight. 

“Must be easy with magic.” Hermione looked up at the bitter woman across from her, staring enviously at her wand. Bellatrix shook her head lethargically. “It’s been _five years_..”

She hoisted herself off the cold cobblestones and down onto the mattress behind her. “Yeah, it still smarts though.” 

Bellatrix snorted again, “You caught that trying to take a swing at me, dearie. Sorry if you don’t see me shedding any tears for you.”

Hermione stared back angrily and took some measured breathes. She finished cleaning herself up, leaving no trace of the skirmish, but the task gave her time to consider the exchange. “Okay. I guess if we’re going to work with each other, we need to be civil.” 

The spirit huffed back disbelievingly and Hermione doubled down by standing up from the mattress. “I understand that we were both in the War and we worked on different sides. We did what we thought was best for us and our kind at the time.” She watched Bellatrix collect herself seamlessly off the floor. The grace of the action made her pause but she continued on, “I can’t apologize for what I did in the War because I’m not sorry. I don’t regret my actions and I suppose I can’t fault you for doing the same.” 

Bellatrix gave an uppity hum and Hermione stopped her monologue to allow the woman a turn. “Very well. It might be in everyone’s favour if we just..” Bellatrix cast her gaze around the room. She wrung her hands together a bit as she drew out her sentence and if Hermione didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought it was out of nervousness. “Let the past be past.”

Hermione chuckled bleakly. “I don’t think it’s that easy.”

“Well, of course it’s not.” She snipped back, “But what other choice is there? The two of us can’t possibly be productive if we are constantly going after each other’s throats.”

“Then how about we just stay honest then?” Hermione shook her head at the futility of it all. “I have completely legitimate and conflicting feelings about _all of this_ and I’m sure that I’ll still think terrible things about you even if I choose not to voice them.” Bellatrix was quiet. With itchy realization, Hermione took a moment to appreciate that at least they’re having this kind of open minded conversation. _Hell, it’s hard to have this type of discussion with the boys or Ginny even._ For a fleeting moment, she wished that she had this level of understanding with Ron.

“Fine.” Bellatrix resumed the conversation with conviction. “Honesty it is.” Hermione was impressed. “I think you are a hazard to this entire operation.”

Hermione deflated. “What?”

The ghost swayed her hips carelessly as she listed off her concerns. “You’re too emotional. You’ve been picking fights with me this entire time and I’ve had to revolve them all, so far. You lord your power over me and it puts me in positions where I need to constantly defend myself, convince you to cooperate, or lay myself low to sooth your erratic mood swings.”

“You can’t be serious--”

“Why not?” She raised her eyebrow and comfortably wrapped her arms in front of herself with a cocked hip. She glided in closer again and Hermione had to struggle not to fidget to create more space between them. “I’m definitely not who you thought I was and I want respect.”

“I’m not going to treat you like some superior being, LeStrange. We can end this right here and now if that’s what you’re asking.” Hermione replied with a firm edge to her voice.

“I’m not asking for that.” Bellatrix seemed exasperated but quickly switched to something more imploring. “Each time you’ve come in here, you’ve been all over the place and I’ve had to fix it. We can’t be working well if you have a bloody crisis every encounter you have here.”

She bit her lip and her cheeks burned hotly. Bellatrix waited for her reply. 

“Err, I suppose that I.. might have been..” Hermione searched for the words but came up empty. 

“On the brink of burnout? A breakdown? Looking for a fight?” Bellatrix finished with a smarmy tone. They held eye contact. Hermione wrinkled her nose and Bellatrix pursued her lips.

Then, Hermione started to giggle. Bellatrix smiled back and she noted it was a rather pleasant look for her.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are insufferable?” She tried to recover. Her cheeks burned from embarrassment but she felt strangely better.

Bellatrix thankfully took it well. “Two in fact. My father and Snape.”

Hermione’s mouth quirked to a smile. “Yeah, I bet he would.”

They shared a moment then. Hermione watched her and realized for the first time that, in this moment, she wasn’t angry at her. _I guess I still see her as a threat._ It was so hard to feel like she was doing the right thing. Being around Bellatrix LeStrange was so frustrating in that way because she _thought_ that she hated her absolutely and everything she stood for. But if she hated her, why was she helping her come back to life? More so, she’d catch herself not being actively hostile to the ghost and be washed in guilt and her efforts against the woman would renew. _To treat her any better would feel like.. betrayal_.

She was still lost in thought when Bellatrix spoke. “Snivellus always was a real bastard, wasn’t he?” She gave a deep chested hum that Hermione felt in her stomach. “.. Say, where is he now ?”

Her unease drained and she looked away, oddly surprised that they stood there so long in something so close to agreement. “Uh, um. He’s dead.”

“Oh,” Hermione cringed at the unconvinced tone in her deep yet airy voice. “Pity. How’d he go?”

She was uncomfortably aware of how her feet scuffed the floor in the silence and how her hands twisted at her sides. “Um, he, uh. He- Nagini bit him.”

“No..” Hermione was relieved by the scandalized tone. “No bloody way, that absolute wanker. He’s definitely alive!” Hermione snapped back to attention and held up her hands. Bellatrix looked over the moon with the news. Her pearly white curls bounced as she laughed.

“No, he’s not! I mean, he _is_ dead, me and the boys saw it happen--”

“Well, I guess you bunch left too soon! That traitor had the Anti-venom!” Bellatrix crowed and cackled. It didn’t sound evil though, more whimsical. “Bloody bastard’s probably living it up and in hiding by now. By way of muggle, I suspect.” She looked so proud that Hermione nearly short circuited.

“What? No he’s not! And-- you knew he was a traitor all along?”

“Of course I did.” Bellatrix waggled her head on her shoulders cartoonishly. “He’s a clever prick - he made that Anti-Venom years ago. Who else could’ve saved that Weasley bloke?” She chuckled heartily. “Why so pale, girl? We worked together for years, why wouldn’t I be happy that he got away?”

Hermione gaped, opening and closing her mouth, trying to think of an answer. “I thought, well, that you might’ve hated each other..?”

Bellatrix laughed and Hermione flushed at the full, rich sound of it. She felt disheveled internally, like she was missing out on an obvious joke. “Oh, yeah we would play off each other, but that’s just the game, sweetheart.” She purred out sickly sweet making Hermione feel like running. “We had our roles to play and we had a rather unkind Master, as I’m sure you were aware.”

She leaned in closer now, inches away and swept Hermione over in that cool essence that’s generally associated with ghosts, and whispered, “Do you think it’s a coincidence that our Lord’s two brightest lieutenant’s both had escape plans?”

Breathing in shallowly through her nose, Hermione noted that even the air smelled cold. The glossy translucent curls in front of her brought about the biting scent of autumn's end and winter’s tease. With this, Hermione felt a strange heat blossom in her stomach and it made her feel squirmy.

“I, um..” Hermione creased her brows together and watched Bellatrix watch her with uncomfortably close attention. “We’ll, um, start work tomorrow. You can fill me in on what you’ve gathered so far..” She felt like saying more, but resisted. Their eyes were locked and it felt like she was captive in Bellatrix’s gaze.

She could count her eyelashes if she wished when Bellatrix batted them knowingly in reply, “I can hardly wait.”


	17. Mm day one ?

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

Saturday morning presented itself to Hermione like an unwanted sexual advance. That night, she spent countless hours carving the details of Minerva’s bedroom ceiling in her mind as sleep evaded her. Only after an eternity of support beams and cobwebs did she blink and the endless night was gone, replaced by morning. Her eyes were itchy and dry and she was alone in Minnie’s bed. The sunlight streamed mockingly through the golden curtains stretching a silhouette of prison bars on the rumpled, burgundy duvet. Hermione turned her face to smushed it into the clean pillowcase beneath her and grumbled to the empty room. “Bullocks.” 

Later, she entered the office and noticed that, oddly, Severus wasn’t at the breakfast table. “Morning, Min. Where’s Father?”

Minerva snorted behind her copy of the Daily Prophet as she took her regular seat. She summoned an elf for her. “Pft. Old bastard sent me a letter to inform me that he _can’t make it this weekend_ to complete an _errand_ that he _needs to run_ .” Hermione grinned at Minerva’s exaggerated English accent and horrible impression of Snape as she spoke. A haughty tutt resounded in the tea cup that she raised to her pinched lips. “What business does _he_ have that can’t be postponed, hmm?”

“Don’t mind him, he’s likely just obsessing over one of his precious, little projects.” She kindly chided back at an unimpressed Head Mistress. “Nothing to take personally. Sev will be back again once he finishes whatever potion or plant he’s tending to..”

“Hm. Sounds like someone else we know.” Hermione scrunched down in her seat and offered a sheepish smile to Minerva’s pursed look. There was a squat, quack of a pop and a murky blue grey house elf apparated next to the table. He tucked it’s wrinkled head to its chest and politely greeted the two in a croaky voice, “Missus’s.” Without pausing, the elf snapped its thick, brambled fingers and a plate of bacon and eggs rattled in front of her.

“Thank you.” She turned to the elf and smiled. “And what’s your name?” The elf looked back at her and gave a one shoulder shrug. He continued to stare through her then grunted, repeated his small bow, then squawked away into a swirl of dust.

She quirked her mouth at the odd encounter. “Where’s Mopsy?” She turned over to Min who was flipping the pages of the Prophet with dignified snaps. “With the old fart. Severus required her aide in his project and summoned for her on Tuesday.” Hermione nodded at the information and switched over her focus to begin her meal. The eggs were scrambled instead of her preferred sunnyside up, but she didn’t mind. It reminded her of how Harry cooked breakfast - sunnyside before they turned into over easy but eventually scrambling them.

“Say, Min.” Hermione followed her train of thought. “The End of War party must be near..?”

“Yes, dear. In a fortnight and it should be a special one, as well.” Minerva looked over her paper, excitement glowing through her cool expression. “This will mark five years now.”

Hermione nodded sagely but her burgeoning smile ruined the effect. “Exciting indeed.”

The rest of the morning that Hermione spent in Minerva’s company was relaxed and easy. Hermione felt so at ease, that she almost brought up the fact that she learned that her boss was gay this week but decided on withholding the impulse. Minerva told her of her weekly chats with Harry and how he had to cancel recently due to an uptick in strange criminal occurrences. Hermione briefly wondered if she should connect with her friends soon or if seeing them at the Annual Party was good enough. She settled for the latter. At noon, they ate some biscuits and tea together before Hermione excused herself to go work on the Room of Requirements some more with a promise to return by dinner.

She walked leisurely towards the Room, breathing in the castle as she went. She spoke to a few paintings that called out to her on her way and learned that the news of her promotion had circulated through the halls. Luckily, she didn’t bump into anyone else on her way, but she knew that that was because most magical beings avoided her like a dragon to a bell after she first accepted her position in the Department for Magical Beings. Not even Sir Nearly Headless Nick stopped to chat with her long anymore. She chuckled at the irony.

Without hesitation, she summoned the doors and entered the Room of Requirements. The smell of parchment, dust and ash gushed her way and Hermione calmly entered the study. Bellatrix was lying flat on the bed again, facing the door on her stomach as she was writing on a stack of paper at the foot of it. She kept her head down but glanced up at her arrival. “Welcome back.”

The neutrality irked Hermione. _It’s barely been a few hours since.. Never mind. If she can be civil, so can I-_ She blinked and abruptly realized how tidy the room was. Most notably, all of the papers that used to clutter the floor were organized in small, orderly piles and arranged on the once unoccupied shelves of the left most bookcases. A number of tomes that previously sat on the higher shelves were also moved to the bottom making the giant units look less top heavy and more like an abandoned factory pocked with broken windows instead. The entire room looked shockingly refined and only things out of place were the single quill and stack of papers currently being used by the ghost herself. 

“Wow, don’t you clean up nice.” Hermione remarked gruffly while looking around. The room seemed less comfortable now, more imposing, and she was reminded of the intimidating size of it.

“Wish I could say the same.” Hermione snapped her head back to the ghost who only laughed at her expression. “Relax, lovie, I’m only teasing. I don’t sleep anymore so this was nothing. Although, I expect that you barely got any yourself. So I’ll try to play nice.” She gave a chummy smile that surprisingly helped put her at ease, but only a little. 

“Alright. So, erm, where shall we start?”

Bellatrix shrugged, “I’ve collected all the resources related to Olde Magik and Soul Spell’s that I could find. I’ve combed through Hogwarts, which bared little, unsurprisingly, and took a few dozen texts from the Black and LeStrange Family archives. Whatever I was unable to physically bring back to the Room, I wrote notes on from my few explorations.”

Hermione nodded along as she approached the nearest bookcase to examine the titles. “And I suppose you only brought down the most relevant ones?”

“Need to catch you up somehow. So unless you happen to have five years of your time to read through the rest, my notes will provide all other pertinent scraps of information.” Bellatrix rolled out her shoulders and continued writing.

Hermione admired the system Bellatrix laid out for her and leaned back against the books to look at the ghost. She snorted a little. “It’s a tad surreal. Usually I’m the one who does all the groundwork. I’m not sure if I find this nice or unnerving.”

Bellatrix stopped writing and placed the pen next to her work. “Have a better idea?”

Hermione grinned. “Nothing replaces good, old fashioned detective work.”

Her thin eyebrows drew in disbelievingly at the enthusiasm, but she nodded back nonetheless. “Make yourself at home.” She turned back to her papers again and Hermione took the hint. For the next few hours, Hermione began to read through the specially picked selection of books. She conjured up a pad of paper for herself and left tags between the pages of the texts for reminders as she went. At first, she would read standing in front of the shelf before she gave in and sat on the far corner of the mattress. It sunk down comfortably under her weight and she was reminded of how she mocked Bellatrix the night before about how she was unable to enjoy it. She tried not to feel bad about that. 

One by one, she read through the texts and put them back in their place before reaching for another and returning to the bed. By her third book, she lay down on her back and hovered the book above herself to give her arms a rest. 

The afternoon was unexpectedly calming for Hermione. The endless fire clicked and breathed in the hearth and the sound of pages turning and the quill scratching was her favourite melody. The bed smelled faintly floral and not quite as aged as the rest of the room and the temperature danced between the heat of the fire and the incessant chill of Bellatrix’s presence.

At the end of the fourth book, an easy read on the findings from several interviews with the resident ghosts of Bermuda, Hermione checked the time. “Oh, just so you know, I’ll be leaving in perhaps half an hour for dinner.”

Hermione lay parallel on the bed to Bellatrix who was rolled on her side writing and sorting through notes the other way. She dipped her head at the statement, clearly preoccupied. “Mm? Ah, yes.” 

The short reply tickled Hermione and she felt surprisingly relaxed. She decided to be brave. “Do you ever get hungry?” 

The ghost huffed. “No. I try not to think about it, either.”

Hermione nodded back. “Say, you also mentioned that you don’t feel a sense of gravity anymore.” Bellatrix looked up at the pause and Hermione took that as her cue to continue. “If you don’t have to obey the laws of physics, why does your dress and hair?”

“I don’t know.” She gritted warningly. “They definitely don’t behave in the same way that they should in real ‘ _living’_ life. My understanding of self ends at my body, love.”

For some reason, Hermione blushed. “Alriiight.. But you can also hold a quill? Why is that?”

“What an astute observation.” Bellatrix remarked drily, appearing to go over her notes again. “If you must know, I wasn’t able to at first. But five years of continuous consciousness is plenty of time to get used to something challenging.” She sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing a temple dramatically. 

“There! And that’s another thing. Can you breathe? Is that required?” Hermione had dropped her book to the side, fully forgetting her intentions to finish it before dinner.

“Merlin’s pants, girl.” She growled, clutching her work dangerously. “Severus always said you were like this, but Salazar I never thought it would be this insistent.”

Hermione stalled. “You.. Severus and you have spoken about me?”

“Well, of course.” Bellatrix threw a hand in the air and shook it. “You’re the best friend of Harry Bloody Potter.”

“Oh. Yeah.” 

“Hmm, that shut you up didn’t it? You know, there’s a certain wisdom in thinking before you speak.” Bellatrix’s tone was biting and more acidic than before. Hermione looked away. She took in a breath to recalibrate and rubbed her thumb against the threads of the severely wrinkled sheet on the bed. Her words drew out slowly. “Is that why you chose to torture me that night? You thought I’d gab away?”

The mood got frosty then. Hermione resolved to not look the ghost's way again but the silence all but screamed as she squeezed the sheet in her palm. Movement flickered in the corner of her eye when the ghost fidgeted. 

“Perhaps.” Hermione shook her head incredulously and a bitter breathe forced its way out of her chest. “Hermione, I prefer not to talk about that night from now on.” 

Her head spun to face Bellatrix and she saw the spirit staring at the flames with some strange forlorn expression. “You kno-”

“It's not a fair request, I understand that, but please.” Bellatrix interrupted Hermione’s angry retort making her stop. “Let’s not talk about that.”

She stared hard at the ghost. Tension strung her body high in disbelief and frustration.

“Fine.” She could feel more than see her relax a bit before she continued, “But, I want something in return.”

She laughed something cold and it reminded her of the old Bellatrix. It rang with sour mirth and was icy and grating to hear. “Of course there’s a catch. So, what is it, pet? I’ve already answered all of your inane questions, what more could you possibly want?” 

Hermione faltered. _I didn’t think she’d give in so easily._ “Um.. I don’t know yet.”

Bellatrix snorted and Hermione’s neck burned. “Well let me know when you do.”

Both left the conversation alone for the next 20 minutes. Hermione didn’t finish the book like she planned as she was far too distracted to read and her chest felt much too tight. A crack of some stiffness resounded as she rolled up from the bed a while later. 

“You never did answer my question about breathing.” Hermione sat at the edge of the mattress and heard the shuffling papers behind her still.

“No, I don’t need to breathe..” Bellatrix trailed off and she sat still and quietly. “But.. it makes me feel alive again. It wouldn’t feel right if I stopped.”

Hermione nodded. There was an almost sad silence that followed and Bellatrix didn’t continue. Resolved, she rose from her side of the bed, “I’ll be back after dinner.” And with that, she left.


	18. o snap

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

Hermione was troubled by the encounter, but she reminded herself to think on the bright side. At least she learned about some ancient records on ghosts today and wrangled a bit more information out of Bellatrix, too. Immediately outside the door of the Room of Requirements was the grumpy house elf from breakfast squatted down like a crotchety old man guarding his lawn. Seeing the creature there when she wasn’t expecting it freaked her out.

“Jesus Christ--!” She shot into the air with a jump and gripped her wand tightly in her shaking hand.

“Missus.” The elf croaked back neutrally. 

Her heart pounded under her palm and she desperately sought to collect herself a meter away from her original spot. “Um, yes. What is it?”

The wrinkled thing sniffed and replied, “Head Missus says guests are here for dinner and to meets with them in the Great Hall, Missus.”

Hermione’s head nodded slowly as she glanced between the elf and the door. “That’s fine, but-- before you go.” The elf had shifted its focus away from her and bent a little at the knees in preparation to pop away, but then stopped. Her eyes flashed back and forth again nervously, “What shall I call you?”

The elf grunted just as he did that morning, “Umpf.”

Her brows furrowed and released in realization. “Your name is Umpf?”

The elf gave her a dead eyed stare and she swallowed. “Well, Umpf. How long have you been standing there for..?”

The elf was small and looked rather old to be making frequent ventures out of the kitchen quarters, in Hermione’s professional opinion. He blinked slowly and cleared his throat. “Umpf has been standing here for no longers than a minute, Missus. Umpf’s feets have yet to ache from the scratchy stones.”

She looked further down and saw a pair of dry, weathered and bare feet. She had an idea. “Do they hurt often, Umpf?” He merely grunted in reply and she smiled knowingly. “Well, I might be able to help with that. I understand that it’s untraditional in your culture to wear much clothing but I’ve spoken to other elves who’ve gone through similar aches to yours..”

For the first time, Umpf seemed to straighten up a little and paid close attention to Hermione as she went on. “House elves from the Middle East would bind steeped peppermint tea bags together and charm them to keep them hot, fresh and sticking to the soles of their feet to relieve the pain from rough Apparition landings.”

The elf’s eyes sparkled. “Yes.. Umpf could do that.” His tightly cropped ears drooped, “But that would be stealing from the kitchens..”

“No, Umpf, not if they’re waste. Why, you are only being resourceful and that’s an admirable quality for an elf to have, Umpf.” She spoke kindly and watched the elf rub at the wrinkles on its face with a thoughtful look. 

“Yes, yes.. Always important to not throw away goods..” He gave a determined nod and she beamed. “Thanks you, Missus, Umpf will try! Is there anything else Umpf can do for Missus?” 

Her hip popped out as she addressed him, “Actually, Umpf, I need to make sure no one else knows about the Room of Requirements being functional for now.” 

Panic spotted and grew in his wide eyes. “Umpf can not lie to Head Missus!--”

She quickly crouched down to his level. “No, no, Umpf, not _lie_.. Um, it’s a surprise. Yes, a surprise for the Head Mistress and I don’t want anyone to spoil it for her.”

He nodded breathlessly, chest expanding in a more appropriate rhythm and she let out her own breath of relief. “Umpf can keep a secret.”

Her face stretched into a massive grin and she touched his little blue grey hand. “Thank you, Umpf.” He merely grunted one last time, gave a purposeful wink, and popped away. The dust swirled in his departure and she sagged heavily onto her knees in a sigh. 

“That was a close one.”

This time, instead of jumping in fright, Hermione yelped and rolled away from the voice hovering above her. “Jesus fuck!--”

Bellatrix had her pearly white profile poking out from the wall where the Room of Requirement would be with her curls cascading to the floor looking like a mounted deer head on a wall. “So, you created an alarm system so that you may know if I leave the Room, but you had nothing set up in case someone came along while you were inside?” She snorted nastily. “Lazy. How did your idiotic band evade our reign for so long if you were the smart one?”

Hermione lowered her raised wand and dropped her head between her arms. She remained on all fours on the cobblestone hallway, sucking in deep cool breathes of air. She shook her bushy head and murmured, “Christ almighty, Bellatrix.”

The ghost clicked her tongue and moved away from the wall altogether. “Who is that? I’ve heard the name before, but I’ve never got the chance to ask the muggles who this person is. I always assumed he was some sort of Lord for them.”

Her fingers bunched on the stones and she squeezed her eyes tight as the woman prattled on above her. Her whole body prickled at the dark insinuation. “Something like that.” Her reply was tight and Bellatrix made a prissy noise at that. Hermione took her sweet time getting onto her feet. 

“Tsk, tsk, girlie. My faith in your abilities lessen the more time we spend together.” Bellatrix cooed childishly in front of her. “How do I know that you’re not going to blow our cover when you can barely manage to fool an elf?”

Hermione’s temples started to throb and her stomach began to cramp. “Shut the fuck up, LeStrange.” The other’s lips curled nastily at that but she didn’t stop. “Everything’s fine so back off and stop trying to rile me up.”

Bellatrix crossed her arms and sneered. “But it’s just soo easy ~”

“Well, knock it off,” Hermione bit out and took a step closer. She held strong even when the other witch didn’t move away. “I can handle it and if you can’t believe that, good luck on your own.” 

They stayed there, locked in their stubborn positions before Bellatrix let a loud stream of air through her nose and set back her shoulders into something less hostile. “Shouldn’t you be going somewhere..?”

Hermione relaxed minutely too. She kept eye contact a moment longer as Bellatrix’s was unrelenting and twisted in the direction of the Great Hall. “And!” She called over her shoulder after a fair distance away, “I’m not _that_ awful of a liar. I just try to be nice when I can.”

Hermione kept striding down the way when she heard another snort. “Doubt it.”

She paused, her hands worked themselves into fists, clenching in pulses. Coming to a conclusion, she turned back around to meet the ghost head on. “ _Veritas Homonculous_ only works on tracking you inside the room.” She announced. “You could’ve left at any time and I’d never be able to find you.”

The hallway was drafty and cold like she had come to associate with the ghost. Bellatrix’s face morphed into a snarl. Her eyes bugged and squinted and she opened her mouth before snapping it shut. Hermione watched the emotions flare before falling into something disturbingly calm. Her liquid eyes were dark as they bore into hers. “Then I still can.”

Hermione’s chest puffed out with the large breath she took and her jaws clenched. “I’ll see you after dinner.”

With the last of her bravo out the window and feeling horribly unsure of how the other would react, she turned and marched away from Bellatrix hoping that she wouldn’t get called out on her bluff. The entire journey to the Great Hall was a barrage of conflicting thoughts on how their last conversation went. She lamented over certain things and worried about the consequences of others. A claw of pain pulled through her hollow middle reminding her that she was pretty late for dinner despite leaving early. She wondered what kind of hell she’d have to pay when she finally made it to the large, grand entrance of the Hall. Turning in she figured it was either yelling or the classic silent treatment, when she slid to a stop and partially stumbled upon seeing Minerva sat with Neville and his parents, Frank and Alice Longbottom.

“Wha-!” Was all that was strangled out of her mouth before she regained her footing. Unfortunately, the conversation at the table stopped at the sound and everyone looked her way. _Shit._

“Hermione?” Neville sprung up from his seat, ready to hop the table if needed . “Are you alright?” 

She suspected that her cheeks and neck had darkened nearly red from embarrassment but all she could do was finish crossing the last third of the hall and keep breathing. _God, if this walk isn’t long enough.._ “Oh, I’m fine. Just slipped a little is all.”

Her tone was strained but the group seemed to understand and laughed a little at her expense. “Glad you could still make it.” Minerva spoke with a raised brow and Frank Longbottom laughed loudly but not unkindly. 

“Ah, don’t worry about it, Hermione. Come grab a seat and get some food in you before you faint on us!” Frank called out as she rounded the nearest end of the table. “You’re practically wasting away!”

She could almost appreciate the friendly and familiar tone that Neville’s dad used for her if his wife wasn’t still posed tensely over her seat looking every bit like she was ready for Lord Voldemort himself to burst into the Hall. Alice had too, leapt from her seat when she heard Hermione’s yip but for very different reasons than her son. She didn’t see a wand in her hand, which was a relief, but what might be more unsettling was the way she held her fork in her hand with a singular, hard, and distrusting look on her face. It made her skin crawl from the intense murder vibes coming off her and Hermione grew mildly nervous to cross behind the woman to sit next to Minerva on the opposite side from the family.

“Hermione!” Her eyes tore away from Alice’s unshaken gaze over to her son’s. “Sit here.” Neville searched her dark eyes with his own as he pulled out the chair next to him on the end and Hermione began to protest. “Oh, thank you, Neville bu--”

“It’s no problem,” Neville had stood and touched her arm in greeting before resting his hands on the back of the chair that he offered to her. His face was overflowing with happiness and pride and she felt a guilty pang as she realized how important this dinner might be for him. “Honestly Hermione, it’s no big deal.”

She hoped her returning smile didn’t look too much like a grimace. “Thanks, Neville.” She sat and he pushed in her chair to the sound of Frank's loud approval. “Ever the gentleman, my boy!” He crooned gleefully, placing some intimate hands on his wife’s stiff arms and looking over to Minerva boastfully, “You’ve done a fine job taking care of him, Minerva.” 

Minerva blushed and covered her younger set of former students with a warm, maternal gaze. “Yes. I’m very proud of them both.. Truly.”

The hole in her middle grew larger and more hollow as time passed and Hermione opted to start fixing herself a plate in order to fill it. Swallowing every bite was a task when guilt licked and circled hungrily in her belly. Longbottom’s laid out their latest developments. 

“.. and the Healers are confident in the stability of our conditions making the last steps on our list to finish the paperwork and book our follow up appointments-- then we’ll be all cleared to go home.” Frank finished with charming flourish and a great smile that lit up his face like Neville’s sometimes would. Hermione snuck a glance as her friend and saw him completely enraptured by his father’s voice. She smiled softly to herself. Until she caught the eyes of Alice, that is, boring into her and she promptly resumed her focus back on her food. 

“That’s wonderful news, Frank. I’m so glad that things are going so well for the three of you.” Said Minerva, sipping at her large, bulbous glass of red wine. “Have you considered what you’ll do after being discharged?”

“Wands.” Alice spoke evenly shooting a shiver up her spine. “We need to try our old wands out to see if we are still compatible or not.”

“For sure, but hopefully it won’t be too stressful on you guys. You two just woke up and I don’t want you to overdo anything before you’re ready.” Neville injected shyly.

“Oh, Nev, sweetie,” Alice’s voice softened and Hermione almost found it’s gentle tones melodic. Her hand cupped her son’s cheek in reassurance. “We will be careful, but I just won’t feel secure until I have my wand again.” 

Frank barked a laugh and rubbed her other hand that was set on the table. “That’s my Al. Always ready for battle.” Hermione’s scalp tingled. “But it’s not like you need one! You’ve got nothing to worry about, you’re the best Auror at wandless magic in the entire department-- or at least you used to be for sure.” Frank smiled sweetly with pride in his eyes.

“It didn’t help when Bellatrix LeStrange was torturing me.”

The group was stunned silent. Utensils froze in their motions and everyone was still in brittle rigidity. Hermione stared pointedly down at her plate and felt eyes on her so acutely, that her hairline broke out in a sweat. 

“Al, we were ambushed and out numbered.” Frank said quietly, “There wasn’t anything else we could have done.”

“What happened was horrific.” Minerva added quickly, her accent thicker than usual and Hermione thought she sounded far away for some reason. Everyone was quiet again and Hermione half expected for Alice to say something else but the silence prevailed uncomfortably. A large part of Hermione was actually content to sit in this awkward reflective moment if it meant that she didn’t have to suffer the different discomfort of feeling like a blood traitor during the family picnic. But then she noticed how frighteningly still Neville was beside her. His breathes came short and shallow and the heartiness in his demeanor was gone. She had to try something to save his failing dinner.

Hermione took one of his large, cool hands in her own and spoke emotionlessly, “They’re dead now. The LeStranges’ and Crouch Jr. They can’t hurt anyone else anymore--”

“What do you know of _hurt_ , girl?!” Alice snapped.

She saw and felt Minerva and Neville stiffen horribly at this. Hermione felt her tongue pool in her mouth now a dead, grey thing. And her sight burned out like her eyes stopped recording. Sound grew fuzzy in her ears.

“Now, Al. You don’t mean tha--” Frank started while gently rubbing his hands up Alice’s flexed arms when Neville spoke over him.

“Bellatrix LeStrange _tortured Hermione_ , Mum--” Even hearing his angry and contained defense out loud, she felt empty. The argument floated past Hermione’s ears like an useless breeze until it was less some kind of communication and more like noise. Distantly, she could see Minerva stand from her chair and where Hermione knew she should have heard the chair legs scrape the floor, there was nothing. Neville shifted and stood from the corner of her eye and she vaguely remembered his hand under her own. It rested on the table empty of his presence now. Vibrations shook the air and tickled the inner muscles of her ear as voices were raised. Hermione didn’t know whose they were or what was being said. 

She felt jostled, not unlike being in a vehicle as it soothingly brought you to sleep, but the distinct wrap of long, steely fingers curled around her forearm. They enclosed the wrist of her left arm, brushing the puckered scars below her sleeves. She imagined long, dark nails biting into her flesh, a spicy musk, wild eyes. A stained knife. 

Hermione was awake. 

She blinked hard confused. Her pupils dilated rapidly, her brain overloaded. Magic was alive and tasted sharp on her tongue.

She was standing now and her chair was on the floor. Minerva all but collapsed in Neville’s arms. A couple wisps of silver hair had escaped the confines of her bun as she was supported in his steady grip. His face looked wind whipped and red and Min all but climbed her way up his body tiredly like he was the cragged face of a mountain. Behind them was Alice and Frank, both looked similarly disheveled and much more alarmed. They had twisted and knifed their bodies defensively and, despite their lack of weaponry, they appeared ready to fight. 

“-re you okay, Hermione?” She felt rash and raw, until sound clipped back into existence and she recognized Neville’s low voice. She met his eyes and saw caution. Seeing that hurt her. Minerva’s showed a mix of sadness and tiredness. “Oh, dear. It’s alright..” Her voice was hoarse and thick. The Head Mistress closed the distance, no longer needing Neville’s assistance, and gingerly bracketed her hands to Hermione’s face. Wetness. Minerva was swiping away the tears from Hermione’s face and she felt her face break. She wrapped her arms around the older witch and hid her damp, burning face into her narrow shoulders. “Oh, God. OhGodOhGod--Min, I’m sorry-- I--”

“Shush, there there. I’m fine. It’s okay, dear.” The boney hands travelled around to stroke her back. It took everything Hermione had not to completely unravel.

“Hermione, it’s alright.” She heard Neville say and she crumbled into herself as shame filled in the cracks. 

Without compromising her hold on the younger woman, Minerva addressed the others without looking at them. “Neville, dear. You may let your parents stay in your quarters for as long as they desire. It was lovely to speak to you both.” She held such a refined and steady voice that rumbled familiarly against Hermione’s face. She wanted to cling to that voice, absorb some of its strength. The steady hold on her made Hermione want to sink to her knees and bawl like a child for hours, but instead she just stood there trembling and sniffling in Minerva’s arms as the Longbottoms bid farewell.


	19. sweet n sour, yom

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

Hermione stared back at her reflection in the mirror as she mechanically brushed her teeth that night. She studied her bushy crop of gravity defying curls. Her nearly untouched brows that squared off above dark, unyielding eyes. Between them was a long, straight nose that flared out at the nostrils like her fathers. Her lips were narrow and wrapped around the neck of the blue toothbrush that she kept at Hogwarts. 

_Look at yourself._

She spat and rinsed. She took steady care in flossing. 

Focusing back into the mirror, she finally took in the dark bags that claimed permanent residence under her eyes ever since the War. Flecks of shiny skin, scars from magical shrapnel and debris from past battles, peppered her face. Her eyes never seemed gentle anymore, gentle like her Mum’s were. She didn’t think she looked anything like her Mum in childhood. They’d even used to joke about it as a family when she was a kid that _she must’ve been adopted_ or _they took home the wrong baby_ and things like that. Her mouth drooped mournfully. She never fully believed that until now. Now, she didn’t look anything like her Mum. 

_I can see why they wouldn’t want to be around me these days._ She frowned sadly at herself.

_God, I hate myself sometimes._

“Dearie? Are you alright in there?”

Hermione gripped the rim of the sink and blushed. “Yes, Min. I’m alright.” There was a beat of silence.

“You’ve been in there for quite some time, dear.”

Her head dropped. “Minnie! I’m alright! I’m just brushing my teeth!”

“Oh.” She burned at the neck and shook her head at the woman on the other side of the door. “You don’t usually brush your teeth for 10 minutes unless something’s bothering you--”

“I’m not bothered--!”

“Well, it’s doesn’t soun--”

Hermione burst from the washroom and looked at McGonagall tucked nicely in her bed. “I’m fine, see? I’m out of the bathroom. Happy?”

Minerva was in her sleep gown and sitting up with a novel in her lap, her specs perched delicately upon her nose. She swept her oppressive gaze down Hermione’s disheveled night shirt and shorts and then connected back to the younger woman’s desperate eyes. “You look like you haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Min-ner-va,” She whined and face planted onto the sheets. Min chuckled. “Come here, dear. Get under the sheets, now, before you catch your death.” Hermione dragged herself under with loud groans and settled back into her pillow.

The air was cool and fresh in the room and the sheets embraced Hermione granting chilly reprieve for her hot skin. She wiggled around to get comfy and ended up facing the profile of the Headmistress who was reading a small, paperback muggle novel. The cover featured a strong, long haired Latin man gazing with a torn expression over a tormented sea. He clutched a beautiful and enamoured Latina to his bare chest. “Any good?”

Minerva tutted in her chest. “Too much exposition, not enough action. Would you like to talk about what happened at dinner?”

Hermione shrunk into herself. “No?”

They lay there in silence for a time, Hermione feeling the texture of the sheets beneath her fingers and Minerva occasionally turning a page. 

“It’s just-” Hermione swallowed. Her eyes remained fixed on her fingertips tracing the path of threads. “A lot is happening that has.. Reminded me of the War, lately.” The fib balanced precariously in her mouth. A rustle of paper let her know that Minerva set her book down.

“Is it because of the Room of Requirements?”

The movement of her fingers stopped. _Shit, uh._ “Uhh-”

“Dearie, you’ve been spending so much time down there. It mustn’t be good for your health to be alone in that hallway for so long, especially there of all places..” Hermione buried her face in the pillow so Minnie wouldn’t see her wide eyed look of nervousness. _Shit. Shit, shit._ “Oh, Min, it’s not that bad--”

“Well, what else could it be?” Min’s voice lost its usual control and desperation bled through. Pain panged in Hermione’s chest and she froze. “Dear, I know it’s a challenge that Neville’s parents are back- it’s a miracle that no one expected and no one knows how to handle. But, it’s a wonderful thing that they are here with us again. I’m sorry that it must bring up.. Certain memories for you and with the magic you did..” Minerva sighed wearily and Hermione heard her emotions thicken alongside her accent. “I’m just worried about you and I didn’t mean to give you even more stress by bringing that bloody room into the mix.”

Hermione reached over to grasp Minerva’s hand. It was cool and waxy and she felt it relax in her warm grip. “Minerva, you don’t have to worry about me--”

“Rubbish,” Minerva bit back, interrupting Hermione’s soft words. “Nothing you could do would make me stop worrying about you.”

She smiled bittersweetly up at her mentor. Minerva had not looked back at her and seemed to be tersely trying to keep her composure. “Oh, Min.” Hermione wiggled upwards to wrap her arms around the other and she instinctively returned the hug.

“Honestly, I think it was just the conversation we were having at the table, that’s all.” Hermione bit her inner cheek as her head lay against Minerva’s chest, following its rise and fall. “We weren’t really talking about the lightest of subjects..” Minerva scoffed and Hermione smiled.

“I’m sure no one in this world hates Bellatrix LeStrange as much as the group of us.” She laughed dryly and Hermione tried hard not to react. “Heh, yeah, I guess.”

But Minerva felt her stiffen lightly and she straightened up a bit. “Well, we don’t have to talk about.. _Her_. In fact, we shall not bring it up again.” She stroked Hermione’s hair and she nodded back weakly. “And no more Room of Requirements.”

Hermione flung herself away from Minerva. “What? No! I-”

“Ah ah ah. Not a word. You’ve been working yourself ragged on that room and I will not have it.” Minerva’s face was set with a high challenging eyebrow. Her look and tone brokered no room for argument and Hermione fidgeted with the knowledge that she would not be able to convince the witch anytime tonight. Her mouth quirked hard, “Fine.”

“Good,” Minerva announced and Hermione fell back to the pillow conflicted and tired. “Now, would you like something to read or would you like to sleep instead?” The conversation was over for now and Hermione just looked up at the familiar ceiling trying to figure out what to do.

“I’m not tired yet.”

A page turned by her head and Minerva tutted once more. “Then perhaps dinner or tea? You barely touched your supper.”

Her scolding tone made Hermione shrink until she straightened with an idea. “Actually, yeah.. I think I might.” She rolled out of bed and threw on her cloak that was draped on the armchair nearby. "I’m just going to eat in your office and go over some work things.” 

She heard a displeased sound in response. “You better not be working too long...” The motherly threat only made Hermione grin back something cheeky.

“I won’t! I’ll be back before you know it~!” She left quickly, sliding out of the room before Minerva could protest further. Hermione strutted over to the desk and cast a spell in case any portraits were listening in. She cleared her throat and grunted. There was a pop in the dimly lit office and Hermione saw the outline of the small house elf bowing before her. “Missus wants Umpf?”

She grinned brightly. “Yes! Umpf, I have a few questions for you.” The elf seemed unenthused despite their earlier bonding moment and Hermione corrected, “But first, I think I would like a cup of peppermint tea, please.” 

In the dark, she saw his little ears perk. “Right away Missus!” There was another pop in his departure. Hermione shivered involuntarily. A glance to the fireplace had the thing erupting in a hot, burly fire that set her as ease. The flickering light reminded her of how she spent her day studying quietly with the dead Death Eater in unexpectedly easy peace. When Umpf returned moments later, she could now see the excitement in his eyes as he eyed the cup with two tea bags that he brought.

“Thank you, Umpf.” He grunted proudly and she settled down on Minerva’s lavish chair. “Umpf, are you able to transport people around Hogwarts?”

His raised ears tucked at this. “House elves don’t pop people around the castle, only elves!”

“Yes, but if you wanted to, could you?” Hermione questioned steadily, thanking her time at the Department of the Regulation of Magical Creatures for her interviewing skills.

He shuffled anxiously at this, rubbing one calloused foot on top of the other. “Umpf guesses he could.. If Umpf wanted to..”

Hermione nodded, “And are you able to apparate directly into the Room of Requirements from here?”

“Umpf could.. Umpf can pop inside the Head Missus’ office whenever Umpf wants. Umpf can also pop into the Room of Requirements if it’s being used-- if Umpf wanted to.” He wrung his hands together uncomfortably and Hermione wondered.

“What if every time you take me to the Room of Requirements,” Hermione started slowly, watching his face carefully. “I will request a cup of peppermint tea. That way, you can get started on your tea bag pads before the students come in for the summer?” 

His ears stood up happily at that and his overly large head bobbed as Umpf considered the deal. “Umpf would like that.”

She clapped her hands together excitedly. “Excellent! Now, every time I request peppermint tea, that means that I’d like you to take me to the Room of Requirements.” He nodded back vigorously, the little triangles of his ears flopping. “Away we go~!”

“Wait- what?” Her eyebrows knitted. Umpf then took her wrist in his leathery, knobbed hand and popped them away. “No! I--”

Hermione landed on the bed, bounced, then fell on her face. A mouthful of sheet found its way in as she didn’t prepare to be squeezed through the vacuum of space before she was immediately deprived of oxygen. 

“Took you long enough.” Hermione continued to choke and craned her neck around to see the ghost staring at her, looking amused in her little pool. She lounged in it like it was a hot tub and her eyes travelled slowly over her bent frame before zeroing in on her backside. “Good evening.”

Her face burned and she spun around quickly to face Bellatrix who continued to watch with a smirk. “Umpf!”

“You could say that twice.” She ignored her smooth tone and glared daggers at the elf. He had plopped down on the cobbles besides the bed, draining the liquid from the tea bags into the cup on the floor. “Yes, Missus?”

He stared up at her with his large, bulbous eyes so innocently that she slammed her eyes shut to take some tense, measured breaths. “Thank you for taking me here.” She gritted out as politely as she could. He squeaked happily in reply, “Umpf would do anything for the Missus!”

Water sloshed and Bellatrix cackled from her corner. “Ah, you just have to love the help.”

“And you!” Hermione pointed her glare to the lackadaisy witch in the water. “I need to be quick, I’m only here for the books.” Bellatrix merely shrugged and stretched, rising effortlessly out of the water with barely a ripple. 

“Careful. You might hurt my fweelings.” Bellatrix grinned mischievously as Hermione grew angrier. “And not even a ‘sorry that I’m late’? I may have a hard time perceiving time these days but even I know the difference between a bit tardy and a couple of hours.” 

“Well, _I’m sorry,_ ” Hermione seethed. “I was just late having dinner with the _Longbottom's._ ” Bellatrix halted. “So _sorry_ if I didn’t run straight back to you after sharing a meal with the people you _tortured into insanity._ ”

“I thought we agreed to leave the past in the past.” Her thin brows arched.

“Easy for you to say!” Hermione yelled back, unable to hold back her anger. Bellatrix opened her mouth to retort and she brought up her hands. “Fine, never mind. Just give me the damn books.”

Bellatrix raised her hackles slightly but then turned away immaturely with her arms crossed. She made a high uppity noise in her nose and pointed it upwards.

_This isn’t going well at all._ Hermione sighed and stepped off the mattress, taking away some of the height advantage she already had on the small ghost, and closed the distance between them. “Look, Minerva is getting suspicious and doesn’t want me down here anymore. She still thinks I’m working on the opening door, for Christ’s sake.” 

Bellatrix snorted and continued her stare at the wall. Hermione stood next to her and quirked her mouth. “I need to be careful. I can’t be down here all the time unless we want to blow our cover. Most likely, I’ll only be able to come down once a week from now on.. so you’re going to have to work with me if you want to come back to life.”

Bellatrix rolled back her shoulders. “And to bring back your.. People.”

Hermione smiled, “That too.”

The was a steady drip, drip sound that Hermione came to realize was coming off of Bellatrix’s shimmering form. “Can you feel that?”

Confused, she turned to look at what Hermione was talking about and bit her lip. She nodded, eyes down cast, “A little. I can’t feel much anymore, but some days it’s better than others.” Her voice was tight and Hermione nodded gently. 

“Well,” Bellatrix started, thankfully looking like she was getting over herself. “Since you brought the elf, I’m guessing that you’ve found a way around the old bitch.”

Hermione’s eyes widened then squinted. “Hey--!”

“Is that peppermint tea?” The rapid change of subject only pissed off Hermione more. The ghost drifted past her and closer to Umpf as he worked diligently on conjuring up the little pads for his feet. She opened her mouth, ready to defend Minerva to her dying breath, when her argument caught in her throat. “Wait how did you..?”

Hermione watched the ghost rove contentedly above the elf, catching the delicious minty perfume of the steaming cup of tea below her. Her eyebrows knitted, “You can smell?”

Bellatrix seemed to be having a moment with herself as her eyelashes fluttered shut and her mouth curled with catlike pleasure. “Mmm.” She replied and Hermione flushed, her pulse did something weird. The translucent figure hung languidly in the air, curling herself around the space over Umpf. Collecting herself Hermione asked, strangely breathily, “Bellatrix, have you always had a sense of smell?” 

Funnily enough, Bellatrix looked pestered by the continued line of questioning. Her mouth twisted in displeasure as though someone was rudely interrupting her nap. She took another deep, full chested inhale and sighed with a slight keen. “No, I--” Her eyes snapped open and she froze. She jackknifed away from the area, seemingly aware now of her strange behaviour. She clutched a delicate hand to her chest, bewildered and appearing almost embarrassed. Hermione was internally relieved that the other witch was also reeling. _So it wasn’t just me.._

“I haven’t been able to smell since..” Bellatrix wet her lips with a poke of tongue and didn’t say anything. The action made Hermione more nervous.

“Ghosts don’t have the ability to smell.. Not really.” She supplied shakenly, tearing her eyes away from the dead woman. “The only thing a ghost is somewhat able to smell is the scent of extreme rot and decay - and even then, they don’t smell it, they just claim to almost taste it. That's why Deathday parties aren’t particularly enjoyable to the living..” She remembered the revolting buffet served at Sir Nearly Headless Nick’s 500th Deathday back in her second year and her mouth twisted, tongue souring at the memory. Finished with her rambling, she looked back at Bellatrix who remained still. “Does peppermint tea mean anything to you?”

Bellatrix, who was already pearly white from her affliction, seemed more aghast by the situation. She nibbled on the corner of her bottom lip again and Hermione felt warm again watching the movement. “My.. mother loved peppermint tea.” 

The fire at Hermione’s back heated her and lit the rest of the room, highlighting the distress on Bellatrix’s face. “So.. You can smell the mint tea and you felt when I punched you..” Hermione assessed the situation out loud, “The tea reminds you of your mother but what does--”

“Get out.” Bellatrix’s voice shook. 

“What?”

“Get your books and get out. Now.” Her face was strained and steely. Hermione felt unnerved from the manic energy she was casting. “Bellatri--”

“Get out, get out, get OUT!” She screamed high and shrill. Fear struck suddenly in Hermione and Umpf startled and fell over from shock. The tea cup tipped over and clattered on the stones which Umpf desperately scuttled over to clean. “Leave it-- GET OUT!”

Hermione dashed to Umpf and swooped his light, grizzled body into her arms and dashed away to the bookcase to blindly grab two tomes off the shelf. “We’re out! We’re going!--”

At this point, Bellatrix’s demands turned into incomprehensible, guttural screams. The sound tore painfully out of her throat and rang through the air in meaningless, wild arches. Hermione bolted for the door with one arm full of the frightened elf who clung helplessly at her neck and shoulders and the other heavy with books. Behind her, she heard tearing noises and objects falling to the ground as the screaming never stopped. She burst through the doors and tore down the hall. 

Her bare feet slapped at the gritty stone floor bruisingly until she tripped over a raised cobble and sent them all into a wall. Her stumble wasn’t that bad, but she still collided her shoulder to the stone with great speed and force. “Ow-fuck-!”

Hermione slid along the wall with the momentum of her run and landed mostly on her back and awkwardly on her hip. She seethed and sucked in some air, her heart beat wild and thumping hard in her head and neck and arms. “..Fuck..” She relaxed her grip and heard the books crack to the ground beside her. The tiny body tucked into hers had a quick, shallow rising chest. She felt numbly as Umpf crawled on top of her. He rose and fell out of her vision while he knelt on her heaving chest. “Missus?”

Hermione calmed down enough to start taking long, deep breaths from her nose and out through her mouth. Her mouth felt dry, her scalp ran with sweat. “Umpf.. are you.. alright?”

“Yes.. a few cuts, but Umpf will be okay.” He slid off her body and Hermione curled up to see Umpf staring down at his bloody scuffed up hands. “Oh no, did-? Let me see.” Worry swirled around in her heart. _It probably happened when I hit the wall.._

Taking his small hands in hers, she healed them up and reckoned that she should check herself out before going to sleep that night. His eyes avoided hers and after his hands were mended, he spoke pleadingly, “Umpf is sorry, Missus.”

“Oh, Umpf, you didn’t do anything wrong.” She touched his narrow shoulders and made certain to look in his eyes. “I’ll walk you back to the kitchen. No more popping around tonight, deal?” She offered a smile that he took with a nod. She stood up again, shrunk the books and tucked them into her robe pocket. Noticing his ginger steps, she picked him up again and piggybacked the elf to his quarters and he soon began to braid her hair. It was a quiet walk and Hermione spent the entire time examining Bellatrix’s reaction with conflicted empathy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thank you for everyone reading and especially those commenting, holy crap im super thankful, y'all :D
> 
> Anyway, doing some top secret planning for further chapters and I got a question for y'all.. if you're willing to engage, I'll put a comment below so no spoilers for anybody not interested . Anyway, take care everybody. Cheers


	20. finally my fav character. im slow af

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

That Sunday, Hermione and Minerva spent their time talking and reading together in companionable silence. Neither dressed further than their sleep wear and housecoats, comfortable with curling up near the fireplace of the office while the day drifted by. The light transitioned from clear, pale sunlight to the orangey warm tones of the hearth in the evening. They forgoed regularly scheduled meals to instead snack all day on fruit, cheese, and bread as they quietly went about their reading. Hermione managed to finish the tomes that she took from the Room of Requirements the night before and settled to retrieve more next weekend. It wasn’t until late in the evening that she bid adieu to the Head Mistress and flooed home only to fall straight to sleep in her own bed. 

Work passed by just as uneventfully. Day in and out, Hermione went to the Ministry of Magic and bypassed the bustling crowds of the main hub to sink down to the depths of her own Department where she didn’t bump into a soul. Her schedule remained static as she read more reports on TimeTurners and copied small notes for later investigation. 

Briefly, Hermione worried how she’d react to her manager the next time she saw him. Would she say anything? Should she say anything? _I should’ve asked Draco if the Senior’s sexuality was common knowledge or if it’s a taboo thing to discuss with your boss.._ She even briefly regretted not talking to Minerva about it until she received a note from Unspeakable Williams letting her know that he was taking some time off. He told her that if she needed any more access to more research, to send a letter to Master Unspeakable Lilith Bronahe in Archives. 

She had never formally met another member in the Department besides Fletch and she suspected that this was intended. Offices didn’t connect by hallways and washrooms presented themselves only when you were in need of one. She knew more about the Department from her stint in Fifth Year than in the recent months of working here. Hermione toyed with Fletch’s note and spun in her chair. _I wonder.._

Grabbing a sheet of fresh parchment, she began to write a letter of her own. Copying the instructions left by Fletch, she enchanted the paper with the Senior Unspeakable’s Permissive Code. It would only work once but at least it would be able to pass through what was once described to her as a literal Firewall. 

**Dear Master Archiver Bronahe,**

**I request further research for the TimeTurner Project. I will need all the information available on Olde Magik to advance my progress.**

**Regards,**

**Hermione Granger, Contract Unspeakable**

A giddy chill scaled her back as the ink dried. _After all these years with the boys and I still get nervous about bending the rules._ Hermione stiffened the quirk of her mouth and let the letter zip off to the pocket dimension of the Archives. She rolled her shoulders with a few resolute clicks and got back to work on more reading. 

On Wednesday night, Hermione toasted to Minerva and Severus in her dinky, little flat and drank an entire bottle of elvish red by herself. Crookshanks only indulged her in a few dances before escaping out the window when both the jazz, _and his owner,_ got too slow and weepy. The blare of her muggle alarm clock the next morning made her question if all these projects were actually getting to her. 

Hermione sipped her Pepper Up potion disguised in a coffee cup on the elevator ride down that Thursday. The ride was jerky and unpleasant as always and a ringing whirred ticklishly in her right ear the entire time. She arrived to work late, for once, and tried not to give a fuck about it. Her sleep was disturbed and nonsensical from the alcohol induced dreams. It was a repeating sequence of laughter and snarls and waking up to close her bedroom window, but she wasn’t sure if that last part was a dream or not. _Must’ve been,_ her window was open in the morning. 

Once she completed her ritual of wetting her wand and signing the door to her office, Hermione stepped in to find an unfamiliar figure sorting through her notes. Suddenly sober, she resisted the war instinct to toss her cup at the intruder and volley subsequent fire.

The coffee cup arched out of the thrust of her hand and fell a foot before the desk, spilling its thick, orange liquid across the floor and landing in a crisp ‘clop’ on the black tiled floor. Hermione and the stranger met eyes. _Guess not_ that _sober. Or very good at suppressing fire._

“Was that Pepper Up?” The stranger was incredibly tall and sounded surprised.

“No!” Hermione sputtered. “Who? Wha- Who’re you?!”

The stranger squared their shoulders hesitantly and blinked. “I’m Master Unspeakable Bronahe.”

Hermione paled. “Oh.”

Bronahe nodded and gave a large, closed mouth smile. Their back was straight and so was their long, light purple hair. The fine, lilac hue accentuated their smooth, golden brown features. Their jaw was defined and masculine and their clear blue eyes were slightly slanted and shone unassumingly. Sharp, tapered robes clung to their toned frame and cream frills poked out from their neckline and sleeves. “You requested for the research of Olde Magik on Monday?”

Hermione’s mouth felt dry and cottony and she cursed her hangover, “Um, yes. That was me.”

Their mouth pulled up in that same closed smile. “Excellent.” They pushed a tailored silk gloved hand into a pocket of their exterior robe to retrieve a pre-packed wooden pipe. “Do you mind, if I..?”

“No.. not at all.” Hermione was a little dazed. She watched them set the stem firmly between their lips and light the chamber with a dip of their mouth. After the initial drag, they dipped it once more and the puddle of sticky potion and forgotten cup rose up from the floor and blipped out of existence. They breathed out a sparkling haze of bright red through their mouth and nose. “I apologise for spooking you, Unspeakable Granger. I figured I’d get out of my hovel, for once, to personally deliver the files and well, I might have been curious to read your current work.”

The room suddenly smelled strongly of sage and something tangy. “Wait, you’re Lilith?”

They smiled again and held the pipe in front of their chest in a regal fashion before popping back in their mouth. Hermione blinked and squinted a little, eyebrow rising. “Oh. Fletch said in the letter..”

“Ah, I see.” Bronahe gave a cramped smile and shoved their hands into their robe pockets, puffing quietly on their pipe. “I had a change recently. You may call me Luthor if you find that more.. Erm, sensible.”

Bronahe looked slightly uncomfortable under her curious gaze but kept eye contact. Something clicked and she flustered, “Oh, it doesn’t make a difference to me, honestly. Whatever you prefer.” Brohane gave the same muted smile and Hermione couldn’t stop her nervous ramble. “I’m so sorry if I offended you-!”

Brohane actually looked away at that and Hermione realized she was making things worse. Quickly, she said, “Oh, God. I’m so stupid sometimes, please I--”

They gave a tiny laugh. “I’ll stop you there. I’m not offended and you didn’t do anything wrong.” Hermione fidgeted in her stance in front of the doorway with worry filled eyes. “You didn’t know any better and Fletch didn’t know about my change yet since he’s been gone since Monday..”

“Your change happened in the last week?” Bronhane looked back at her at that. Her tone had shedded it’s anxious speed and shakiness. Instead, it revealed genuine intrigue. They eyed her with a soft, weary expression. “Can’t really plan for these things, actually.” 

Hermione’s awkwardness had completely drained and her eyes twinkled. “May I ask you some questions?”

Bronahe straightened their shoulders once more, appearing approachable despite their imposing height. “Yes.” They carefully asserted, “ But, I am free to not answer if I don’t wish to.”

She smiled back widely. “Of course!” Hermione stepped a few strides closer and the Master Archiver watched. Extending a professional hand, she spoke, “Hello, my name is Hermione Granger.”

Bronahe’s expression twisted into questioning but curious. They removed the pipe from their mouth and shook her hand with their other. “Hello, Unspeakable Granger. I’m Master Unspeakable Bronahe of the Archives.” They accepted the handshake but hesitated the motion in their conjoined grip. Their eyes searched hers before they began again slowly, “I was called Lilith and now I am Luthor, but I also respond to Lex no matter my presentation. I use they/them pronouns. I’ve heard many things about you, Unspeakable Granger.”

“My reputation tends to proceed me,” Hermione’s eyes felt captured by the others. “And please, call me Hermione, Lex.”

They shared a smile and released their hands. “If I may,” Hermione started and waited for their nod. “Are you.. Human?”

There was dead silence. Her eyes widened. _Oh fuc-_ Bronahe gave a shocked laugh. Their smile opened wide to reveal a pair of raised, impacted, and thoroughly sharp canines. Mirthfully, Brohane sighed and chuckled again. “Subhuman and good guess.” They corrected and Hermione blushed. “But, I think the answer to your _real question_ is that I’m Two-Spirited.”

Her mind went on double-time. “You’re Native American then?”

“Metis.” They smiled. “No accent anymore, I’m afraid. The vampire part happened after my days in Ontario and also, a very long time ago.”

“Extraordinary.” Hermione hushed out then snapped out of her daze. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude again. It’s not kind to make a spectacle of you like this.”

“Well, it’s not an uncommon reaction.” Bronahe rigid frame relaxed a little. Then, they spoke in a low tone as if imparting a secret. “And it’s far more favourable than demonization. But, nonetheless, being tokenized or fetishized is a rather unpleasant feeling as well.” 

“Yes,” Her mouth pulled. “I can relate.”

“Quite vividly, I imagine. You were a key figure in the recent War and you continue to make waves even afterwards. Well done, Hermione.” Their praises landed well worn in her ear and she reminded herself to be humble and acknowledge them. “Thank you.”

Lex’s eyes gleamed in understanding. They chuckled again, more comfortable now with showing their smile, Hermione noted warmly. “And how the tables have turned! I’m sure we can exchange discomforts all day long if we had the time. Us marginalized breeds need to stick together, you know.” They gave a wink and Hermione was relieved. 

“Perhaps we _should_ make that happen?” Hermione offered innocently. “You seem to have a fascinating history- not to mention that you’re also the Master Archiver! What are you doing tonight ? ”

At this, Bronahe flinched slightly and their cheeks darkened. Their eyes darted away and back. “Oh! Oh.. erm, that’s.. Rather forward..”

Hermione recoiled harder. “Oh, God, I didn’t mean like that-- I mean, I didn’t even think of you in that-- not that-- I mean, you’re clearly beautiful--” _What the fuck am I saying?_

Brohane laughed out the awkwardness unsuccessfully. “No, it’s my fault! I read into what you were saying wrong. My bad. Aherm.”

Hermione and Lex had furthered their proximity quite a bit and neither could look at the other. Instead, they desperately searched the walls of the office for distractions. Hermione pulled in a deep breath and released it, glancing at them only to see them make eye contact back. Both looked away. _This is such a fucked up, awkward morning,_ she despaired soundlessly and Bronahe gave an awkward cough.

A million bad responses filtered through her mind but provided no reprieve when Bronahe piped up, quite literally. “Ah! Here’s the information that you requested.” They continued to puff nervously as they reached into their robes and removed a single, not very thick file from their inner pocket. 

“Oh! Thank you, Lex.” Hermione was immensely grateful that they were able to break the insufferable atmosphere and go back to reality again. “Heh. Don’t mention it.” They joked, tone unnaturally high. ”It’s what they pay me to do!”

Hermione nodded. Then stopped. She flipped through the file. “Wait, this is all there is on Olde Magik?”

“Indeed.” Bronahe confirmed. Inside the file were perhaps ten pages of double sided notes, the first containing the Four Principles of Olde Magik alone. “Bit of a wild story behind that, actually. The information on Olde Magik had existed for millennia in the Archives, long before the Ministry was properly founded. The Archives then behaved as an informal library for magical folk.

"But then, in the 10th century, when Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was still in its infancy, all written information on Olde Magik was either stolen or destroyed in a chaotic series of terrorist raids and diplomatic maneuvers. After that, well, we didn’t have much left.”

She was dumbstruck, “Terrorists? What sort of group would orchestrate such an attack?”

They leaned in again. Hermione found it kind of amusing since she always considered herself a bit on the tall side, but next to Lex she felt like a student again. “The history is a little fuzzy- and that’s saying a lot, coming from Master Archiver.” She smiled. “But rumour goes that the great Merlin himself was running a campaign to remove Olde Magik from the Hogwarts curriculum and planned to ban it’s usage from the public. Naturally, the Original Twenty Eight were furious..”

“Those families took a lot of pride and honour of their preservation of Olde Magik.”

“Precisely!” Bronahe grinned back, “So, as His influence grew farther reaching then what most Purebloods in charge believed possible for a half blood, they took decisive action. Now it can’t be legally proven, but supposedly the blood elitists of the new Ministry essentially broke into the Archives to steal back the information their families provided for generations. From that, an emergency response was headed by Merlin to destroy what remained and that was the end of it.”

She slid over towards her desk to scribble down a few words and quirked her mouth thoughtfully. “I.. Wow. I never knew this about Merlin..”

“It’s hard to believe but it’s true.” Lex leaned against the desk and looked down at her pad. “He was an extremely controversial figure to Magical Kind. A half blood Slytherin - taught under Salazar and a friend to the rest of the founders. Most recognize Him as the greatest Charms Master in existence. But He was also a powerful animagus, a strong proponent of Druid Studies, and a Magical Creature Rights Activist. Some accounts even depicted Him as a Seer. He was certainly a towering advocate for Muggle Protection and did a lot of lobbying back in those days, too.”

Lex sighed and gazed forlornly at the blackboard canvassing the sidewall. “You don’t hear these aspects of His life, often. It boils down to the fact that He never had children while his political enemies did. It was those generations that recorded His history.” Their face hardened. “Erasing another’s history must be one of the most evil things in the world.”

Hermione’s enthusiasm quieted. She’d read briefly about Canada’s Indigenous genocide in Muggle Studies once in Hogwarts but she didn’t feel confident enough to bring up the subject now. _Not that it’s a very appropriate one either._ Instead, she said, “I suppose one could compare the same point with restricting and removing Olde Magik from the Archives.”

They blinked themself back into the conversation and smirked back at her. “Indeed. One could even go as far as question the morality of having _Unspeakables_ in the first place.”

“Christ.” Hermione snorted. “I think the current Head Mistress of Hogwarts would like you very much, Lex.”

Their fangs gleamed brightly in the ferocity of their grin. “I jive with any cat who dares to question _The Man_.” Hermione made a face and laughed. Gloved fingers twiddled with the pipe and they chuckled embarrassedly. “Erm. You’ll have to forgive me, Hermione. Like I said, I’m very old and don’t leave my hovel often.”

She shook her head and smiled. She was happy to finally meet some more colleagues at the Department. _And what a colleague to meet!_ “Not a problem at all, Lex. But why, of all the practices to make an example of, ban Olde Magik?”

Lex clicked their tongue, wiggling the pipe with the movement. “Yes, there were _some_ legitimate concerns on its history, I suppose. Some spells were created for the sole intentions of harming blood traitors, mixed breeds, other non-wizard magical beings - especially muggles. Many curses that perform the same functions that we still have today are just derivatives of the lost language of Olde Magik.”

“But, we call them the Dark Arts.” Hermione guessed and Lex nodded. “The Dark Arts still exist though. They’re just illegal so we can better regulate and punish their use. I mean, we have classes to learn how to defend yourself against them.”

“That’s also true. But, there’s the fact that Olde Magik is obsolete and hard to deal with. All the useful spells from it have evolved into our modern Latin style. It’s a logical language that’s easier to teach than perhaps guttural sounds. Furthermore, Olde Magik is only compatible with Olde Magik making it harder to regulate and damaging to our health and justice systems.” Hermione deflated a little by the response, seemingly disappointed by the fair, but basic answer. Bronahe chuckled and paused for a moment. “There is.. Some _speculation_ that Merlin might have a personal vendetta against that kind of magic..”

Hermione perked a little. “What kind of speculation?”

“Well,” Lex wetted their lips and stared at the ground. “It’s not something that many people want to circulate - and for good reason..” They were torn and Hermione could see the conflict in their eyes. “What do you know about the Muggle lore on Merlin?”

Hermione blinked. “Um, the basics, I guess. He was featured mainly in stories surrounding King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. There were also some things about Morgana..” She blushed and glanced away. “I was never a big fan of fiction.”

“Fiction.. That’s the thing though, isn’t it? You know that He exists now.”

Hermione’s brows furrowed. “Well I assumed that.. It’s just muggle folklore. Muggles’ historical depictions of our culture have been, more often than not, wrong.”

“Yes, stories from squibs and half bloods were distributed to muggles in the forms of fantasy, mostly. The very nature of lore begs to be reinvented and reinterpreted to better suit the changing values of society as tales age on.” Lex hushed, “But, what muggle folklore has never done is exist _prior_ to actual Magical events.”

Hermione blinked rapidly at the vampire leaning on her desk. “What?”

“Muggle tales of Merlin preceded His own life.”


	21. they all such d*cks

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE**

“What?” She was breathless.

“The muggle folklore of Merlin _preceded_ the life of Merlin.” Lex repeated with wide, excited eyes. Crystalline blue and searching. “And Morgan le Fay, too! She existed in the 10th century when her muggle lore began back in the 5th!”

Hermione’s eyes glazed over as she processed the information. Her fingers gripped her desk for strength. “I.. How come I’ve never heard about this?!”

Bronahe shrugged, looking pleased with how riled up the shorter witch had become. “I’m sure for a combination of reasons. Some don’t believe the muggle lore is true. Others say it’s propaganda from blood purists to paint Merlin as a Wizard to be suspicious of. Most intellects brush all of this type of speculation off as ‘conspiracy theories’ and never dare investigate.” They ticked off the ways, taking large, thoughtful heaves from their pipe. Red swirled and parted before Hermione’s deathly still face. “I believe that _this_ is the real reason as to why Merlin wanted to ban Olde Magik. He knew something about that no one else did-- and now, we never will.” 

She swallowed drily. _I wish I still had something to drink.. Wait a minute._ Raising a hand to her front, a new paper cup spawned in her grip and a quiet gurgle of water sounded as it filled. Lex nearly choked on their next intake and coughed out an impressed sound. “Wandless and non-verbal? How long have you been out of school, again?”

They continued to clear their throat as Hermione chugged back the liquid. She wiped the clinging moisture away with the back of her hand reflexively. “About four years now.” She felt their eyes on her, but she ignored them, used to those kinds of looks by now. 

“Hehmm.” Lex leaned back and stroked the sides of their jaw. “Perhaps we really should meet after hours one day. So I can pick _your_ brain.” 

Hermione snapped her fingers, still not looking their way. “Speaking of office hours,” She spun sharply to Lex making them jump slightly. “I need everything you have on Merlin, Morgan le Fay, and the Original Twenty Eight.”

Her firm tone effectively displaced Master Unspeakable Bronahe. Purple eyebrows shot to their hairline and they nodded once and sputtered, “R-right away!” Marching quickly back to the office door, they halted and withered. “Well, actually.. that’s going to take a bit of time. That’s a lot of information to collect and there are other members of the Department who need records from the Archives wh--”

“Yes, yes,” Hermione interrupted distantly, clearing the blackboard in a swoop of her hand. She instantly transferred the writing onto a sheet of paper that she then snatched out of the air. She flung the paper at the wall behind her where it slapped the wall and stuck crookedly to the smooth plane. With her teeth, she ripped the cap off her white marker and started on her initial notes. She paused briefly between words then glanced to the door to see the poor vampire still standing there watching her disorientedly. “Yes?”

They opened their mouth to respond then snapped it shut on the pipe. With a twitchy jaunt, they made their leave. Hermione filled her lung heavily to collect herself. Setting her features in determination, she twisted back to the board to continue her work. 

Both Thursday and Friday nights were spent in her office until 10 at night. When she’d got home, her mind was fried and sluggish from chasing leads all day. Her feet would shuffle across her weathered floorboards as she went through her nightly motions. Her stockings would sometimes catch on stray splitters in the wood, but she didn’t care. It was easy enough to fix them anyways. 

Crookshanks berated her loudly at her return while she mindlessly fed the noisy boy and subsequently herself. She had initially set up a system to automatically feed her now happily munching cat, but she dismantled it after her recent visit with Minerva and Snape. Minerva was rightfully worried about her eating habits and Severus suggested that she should personally feed the Kneazle during mornings and nights to remind herself to eat as well. 

Friday’s dinner was leftover Chinese Take Away from the night before. _At least magic is better at reheating food than a microwave._ She ignored the small table at the window to eat dinner on her squishy armchair in the small clearing of her living area. The 70s orange material was old and scratchy but she loved the chair. New stuff didn’t feel as nice as promised after the year on the run. Plus, the ugly thing just brought her much needed comfort. 

Thoughts jangled around her head as the too salty meal filled her stomach. Crooks yapped again and she was brought back to reality to see him jumping out of the open window. She smiled weakly at the parted red curtains rustled in the midnight breeze. _Clever boy, no point in muggle locks with this one._ He, too, was changed by her year in hiding with the boys. Such a long time apart made him act even more aloof to her attention than before. Dissolving that relationship stung, but his presence still helped to mitigate a lot of post War trauma. _Let him have his adventures,_ she thought turning back to her wall, _nothing left for him to explore here._

Saturday came and she flooed directly to the Headmistress’ Office in the late morning. Severus was there, uncharacteristically napping in his chair when she arrived. He was settled quite comfortably in the area around the hearth, snuggled away beneath a few blankets. The soundtrack of his snores bumped and gurgled as his head drooped over one shoulder. She giggled at the adorable sight. 

“Looks like both my children aren’t getting enough sleep these days.” Minerva commented. She was sorting through some paperwork at her desk, her glasses perched expertly on the tip of her nose. Leaning over the sleeping ex professor to place a gentle kiss on his head, Hermione looked over to her. “I thought I was your child bride?” 

Minerva’s eyes snapped up warningly and Severus snorted in the back of his nose. His eyes remained shut. “Nice to see you again, Sev. Something keeping you up at night, ay?”

Severus grumbled low in his throat, a craggily baritone sound distorted by the scarring. “Aside from the memories of my War Crimes and the years I spent mercilessly traumatizing children? No.”

Hermione giggled again and plopped down into the seat next to him. Minerva’s tongue clicks could be heard across the room. “I bet that whatever _it_ is was also the reason why he skipped last weekend’s visit.”

“No, I just don’t like you two.” Hermione laughed louder this time and Severus opened his eyes to give her a wink. 

“I do suspect that Minerva is right, though.” She teased. “So.. what’s her name?”

He closed his eyes and feinted sleep again. The red and green tartan throw that wrapped over his front rippled thickly with his grand breaths. Hermione thought he would ignore her. “Who says it’s a ‘her’?”

Her jaw dropped.

At her silence, Severus opened one eye. “Relax, you prude. You’re becoming more like Minerva everyday.” He closed his tired eyes again and Minerva shouted, “I resent that!”

“I was referring to your gullibility not homophobia.” He called back and Hermione sputtered.

“Jesus Christ, I’m not-- is everyone in the Magical Community actually gay and I’m just finding out about it now?!” She panicked. From his angle, Severus glanced over to Minerva as if to say _you want to handle this one or should I?_ He smirked at whatever reaction she communicated back to him. Out of the corner of his mouth, he reasoned, “Don’t be absurd. They’re mostly bisexual.” 

“Enough, Severus, have some pity. You’re a halfblood, you should know better.” Hermione reeled despite the casual conversation around her. “But Minnie, she makes it too easy.”

Hermione shook her head and stared blankly at the rug between her boots and the fireplace. “Jesus.. I can’t tell if you guys are joking or not.”

“Us? Never.” Severus shook with mirth when she shot him with a deranged look. “That’s it, I’m taking a walk. Need to process this.” Her replies were clipped in tight confusion. _This is way too weird._

Chuckles and calls of apology followed her down the winding staircase when they were abruptly replaced by sudden silence from the large stone Griffin. “Ms. Granger.” It rumbled in greeting. Fleetingly, she returned a muted reply and before striding down the hall. 

_This is surreal._ Gravelly, gritty scents floated around her in the large arching hallways she navigated blindly through. _Maybe it was just the older, more traditional purebloods that held these beliefs?_ Her head hurt with the implications. _Perhaps muggles really were the backward thinkers that purists always jested of._

The thought struck and confused her. Her time in Hogwarts never reflected these _progressive_ beliefs, so perhaps politics in the Wizarding world ran deeper than what her childhood had implied. 

By the time she got to the seventh floor, she realized where her feet subconsciously took her. That realization wasn’t as unpleasant as the previous ones, strangely. She only hesitated for a fraction of a second before entering. _Things really didn’t end well last visit_..

“Oh, goodie. You’re back~!” Hermione smiled at the floor nervously when Bellatrix’s voice rang out happily. The room was draped in thick shadows that the low firelight couldn’t reach. The ghost hovered before the mantle, quizzical prodding at her sparring dummy.

Hermione cleared her throat a bit and mumbled. “Well, yeah..” Switching gears back to researcher mode was gummed up by the revelations in the Head Mistresses quarters. Logs crackled warmly and the hot air gripped at her collar. She felt eyes on her from across the room. “Um, I’ll just..” Without meeting her eyes or finishing her sentence, she took quick, clunky steps to the bookcase for another tome.

Plopping on the mattress, Hermione all but shoved her face into it’s pages. But the weight of the ghost’s stare remained, direct firelight refracting out of her mystic form. A handful of minutes passed this way and Hermione was determined not to break the off-kiltered atmosphere. But like a break of rain, Bellatrix moaned out a dramatic sigh. “What’s up, Mud pup ?”

Hermione grimaced. “Could you not call me that?”

“Okay.” She shrugged, “What else rhythms with ‘Mud pup’ then?”

“What?”

Basking in the attention, she swung like a dancer with her dummy partner. Hermione watched indignantly, at first, but then curiously. The flourish of the dress’ sway was mesmerizing. “It’s a cute little saying, I think. Cute and rhymey. ‘ _What’s up, Mud pup?_ ’” She repeated in a sing-songy voice. “Has a ring to it, don’t you agree” 

She grit down. “Why, I suppose you’re right, if you can get over the purist slur--”

“Yes, yes.” She rolled her wrist in a ‘get on with it’ motion then gave a small pout with big ole’ puppy dog eyes. “I’m twying to find a suitable weplacement.”

Hermione turned away and leaned back into her book. She heard Bellatrix huff and grumble in annoyance. “What’s up.. Tea cup? No.. What’s up, muddybutt? No, no, that doesn’t even rhyme..” Bellatrix followed this train of thought out loud for far too many minutes than Hermione thought reasonable. “Pup, cup, yup, sup.. Lup?” A storm brewed on Hermione’s face. _Jesus Christ, when did she get so talkative?_ Her body jumped when Bellatrix gave a sharp, self deprecating laugh. “Ha! Lup isn’t even a word..”

“For the love of God!” She almost tore the book in half with the angry magic spiking off of her. “What’s gotten into you?”

Bellatrix had her arms wrapped over the dummies shoulders, swinging it in time with her rhymes. Her head tucked childishly into the crook of its neck at the shout. “Could ask the same of you.”

Magic traveled along the curls of her dark springs of hair until it radiated into the beginnings of a ‘fro. She stared down Bellatrix as if to dare her to say something more. In turn, Bellatrix all but simpered behind the dummy, now silent. _God, she’s like a little, bratty gir--_ Hermione hesitated. Her shoulders tensed before drooping and she softened her gaze. 

She sighed. “Buttercup.”

“What?”

“Buttercup.” Hermione repeated, the wrinkled at her forehead smoothed out. “‘ _What’s up, Buttercup_?’ It’s a common Muggle saying.”

“Buttercup.. As in the flower?” She nodded and the corner of Bellatrix’s mouth pulled upward. “Yes.. _Buttercup_. I like it.”

“Well, good.” The words struggled out as Hermione watched the ghost drift off to a bookcase, humming and smiling like a cat. She plunged her gaze back into the book. “Now, if that’s all…”

“Mhm. Whatever you say, Buttercup.”

The cringe dumped over her body like a pail of cold water. “Please don’t call me that.” Her insides went topsy turvy and her cheeks were set aflame. A dark chuckle cascaded down from above and she knew she had to get her reactions under control to avoid the scrutiny of LeStrange’s ever present gaze. 

“How many of those do you have left, _Buttercup_?”

Hermione sighed. “Well three the first day, one that night, five the next. Two and getting through this one now.. It’s just the legal one’s on the International Statute of Secrecy and the Black book on the Spirit Division of The Department of the Regulation of Magical creatures-- and that last one is seriously outdated.”

A whoosh indicated movement from above. “Outdated, yes, but invaluable still. Texts back then were much more to the point.. Everything is so censored now and the people - sensitive.”

Monotonously Hermione countered. “It’s about using the language that the communities that you talk about prefer.”

She snorted. “Sounds like a bunch of whiny bullocks to me.”

“What _is_ it with old, blood elitists about the joys of the past?”

“Are you implying that I am _old?”_ Hermione smiled into her book as she continued to absorb the sentences there. A growl sounded. “Watch it, Buttercup.”

“Ahuh, who’s the sensitive one now?” 

“Cheeky wench, aren’t you?” She was glad the tone was both haughty and toothless. “Not sensitive, but _correct_. Fortyseven is hardly old in the Magical Community.”

For once in her life, she was distracted from reading and Hermione didn’t mind. She laughed. “Oh, yes. The tender, young age of your _late Forties_ . Maybe I should be calling _you_ the ‘puppy’?”

There was a pause. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“You’re right.” Hermione lay back on the mattress and hung the book in the air. “You’re more of a ‘Kitten’, anyway.”

“Mudpup.”

“Kitten.”

It was quiet after that. Hermione soaked in her smugness. A small part of her thought of her father, back before.. Her smirk wavered. _It’s better than being called Buttercup again._

Eventually, the ghost spread over the other section of the bed. Peaking over, Hermione saw her reading the thickest book left, the Statute of Secrecy, and writing notes.


	22. fluff stuff

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO**

Hermione was greeted the next day with a face full of sunshine. She lay with the warmth on her face and the gentle air filling her chest easily. It was summertime in Hogwarts and she happily accepted having the empty castle to herself. Springing out of bed and landing on the wood floors, she padded to the washroom to freshen up after the good night of sleep. She opted to join Minerva and Severus in the Office still in her pajamas. 

“Morning.”

Gruffs and calls of good morning replied. Minerva and Severus were arranged around the large desk organizing the first volley of interviews to take place that week. The large Grandfather clock read a quarter to three and she hummed.

Hermione arrived at the small tea table to find her cup waiting for her to release it from its heating charm. “Thanks, for the tea !”

“I spit in it.”

“Severus !”

“Added some flavour.”

Hermione chuckled and sipped at the scalding liquid. She travelled over and leaned on the back of Snape’s chair to look over the collection of names and resumes. “What if I just poured this down your back ?”

“Nothing’s stopping you, teachers pet.”

Hermione grinned and blew on the back of his neck. Immediately, Severus forced back his wheelchair and she sloshed her tea onto her front. “Yeeek-- !”

He snickered and Minerva cast a charm to remove the spill. “Knock it off, you two.” She dashed away from them and magicked Severus’ hair tie away before scurrying to the bedroom. Min clucked, “And it’s nearly 3 in the afternoon, child, go put on some proper clothes !”

Reaching into her bag, Hermione sung to herself some broken tunes as she dressed. Walking back into the Office she noticed that Minerva had transfigured a new tie for Severus as he was pulling back his long lengths of oily black hair. “Want me to give you a french braid, Severu--”

Hermione was interrupted by a firm knock at the door. 

Immediately, both witches pointed their wands at Severus and in a few pops, gone was the man, replaced by a thin side desk holding a round bowl, filled to the brim with water, and swimming inside, a tiny goldfish. 

Minerva tossed her wand onto her desk, “Come in !”

Hermione watched the door slowly swing open with an elongated creek. Then, popped Neville's oval face between the crack. “Hello, Professor McGonagall.” 

Both women smiled and Hermione rushed him in a hug. “Neville !”

“Oh, hey Hermione -- Oouf !” He straightened and caught her in his arms as she giggled and Neville shyly laughed back.

“Yes, Neville, how are you doing today ?”Minerva smiled warmly at her former students.

Setting Hermione right, Neville nodded to the Headmistress. “Good afternoon, Professor. I’m doing alright, just busy with the folks.. as you know.” He stepped up to her desk in wearing his usual black slacks and a clean pressed button up shirt, a coat draped over his arm.

“Yes. Indeed, Professor Longbottom.” McGonagall’s voice melted and cracked a little. “That’s very good to hear.”

Neville couldn’t hide his beaming smile even though he tucked his chin bashfully. Hermione followed him, watching his strong back proudly. He side stepped to greet the little goldfish he had grown to expect in the Headmistress’ Office from time to time. Whenever he'd visit and the small fish wasn’t present, Minerva would say she’d lent it to a friend. _Again, a terrible liar._ “Hey Alan, got some treats for you today.”

Neville proceeded to reach into the pouch hung at his lower back, filled with an assortment of shrunken down gardening equipment and supposedly now, fish food. _His mother might be a fright, but her son’s a large softie like his dad,_ Hermione’s heart swelled. “What brings you by ?”

He grinned down at Hermione. “Well, Professor McGonagall was one of my two favourite teachers, you know. I love chatting during these lazy summers.”

“Oh so not your most favourite, Mr. Longbottom ?” She rolled the r in ‘favourite’ so emphatically that Hermione had to stiffen a laugh. Neville tilted his head sheepishly. “Oh, well, you’re somewhere between Sprout and Snape, if that helps.”

Minerva’s pursed lips never wavered but she did snort in a way most unrefined. 

“Actually, I was hoping to see you here, Hermione.“ He turned to her with kind eyes.

“Ah … ” She knew from her tone, the knowing look that Minerva was sending her way. “ For any reason in particular, Professor Longbottom ?”

Hermione shut her eyes and sighed at her tone. He just finished sprinkling a multi-coloured handful of flakes into Severus’ bowl as well as a miniature shovel. “No not really, Headmistress. It’s just a beautiful day for a stroll around the lake, is all.”

“Ah, Ahh.. I see. “ Hermione had summoned her cloak from the stand with such speed that Severus swayed with the swishing water in his bowl.

“Yes, yes, Min, I’ll see you later.” She called, grabbing the rest of her things and nearly shoving Neville out of the room before he caught on to the Headmistress’ implications. 

“Would be nice if you both could stay in the Castle through the year, Mr Longbottom. Us Professors are given such _large_ accommodations …”

Hermione held one boot in her hand while hopping out the door stuffing the other on. “Yes, yes. He loves his bachelor pad, got to go now, bye !” With much force, the door swung shut behind the young couple. Minerva giggled to herself and looked at the fish bowl. 

Severus glubbed. 

“Don’t give me that look !”

Prodding him all the way down the cramped spiral staircase, Neville fidgeted the whole way. “Ouf, ah ! Hermione, I get it, now piss off !”

She laughed and scruffed up his hair from her higher vantage. “Gods, it’s like deja vu with your father all over again !”

Reaching the bottom, the Griffin slid back into place heavy and loud. “Merlin’s beard, Hermione, you don’t know the half of it !”

“Professor. Granger.” The Griffin acknowledged the two waving back and heading to the front hall. 

“Oh no, what’s the damage ?” Hermione was clipping on her summer cloak around her brushy mane. 

Neville donned his Herbology jacket, a thick material which, although fairly new, was dirt ridden and smeared with strange stains. “Oh, Da. He likes being called Pops though, he will not stop asking about you ! It’s mental, he misses the better part of two Wars and all he wants to know about is my days at Hogwarts.”

They approached the large set of solid, wood doors, boots echoing in the quiet arches of stone. The doors parted for them and a great gust of wind thrashed their faces simultaneously. Neville sighed against the frigid breeze, barely blinking from the pure sunshine and biting air. Hermione watched him again. He was staring out at the green fields with the attitude of a person ready to conquer them all. She batted away the tears from the wind and cold. 

“Neville ?” 

He turned down to look at her. “Yeah ?”

She quirked her mouth into a half smile. “I’m really happy for you. “

He looked down and away, stuffing his large hands in his jacket pockets. “Ah, bugger off.” 

She smiled and waited for him to say more, but Neville began walking to the lake in long strides, a toothy smile pulled close to his collar. Hermione set off to keep pace. 

They headed towards the Black Lake situated on the border of Forbidden Forests. A well worn path circled it without touching the treeline. The fields were cool and moist with budding life. Hermione recognized a small group of Centaurs over on the far side of the property, tending to the grass and facilitating its grooming to feed a diverse ecosystem of wildlife. 

They kept a good silence until they reached the beach of the lake when the ground transitioned from long, silky grass to exposed dirt and rocks. He stopped and looked at Hermione who decided which way that they should head. She jutted her chin to the left.

He snorted. “Typical.”

“What of it, Longbottom ?“ Her cheeks were red from the cold but numb enough for her not to mind. 

He slowed his hike to a canter and she did the same. “Of course you’d want to go clockwise, Hermione. Only you would think that there’s a proper way to walk around a lake.“ 

Hermione gaped and swatted his arm gently. “ Screw you, then !” 

They laughed a little. Hermione smiled. _God, it sounds like something Ron would say.._ Her brows furrowed as she reconsidered the thought. _No.. Ron would say it differently._

_Or wouldn’t notice at all, anymore._

“How’s life anyway, Granger ?” Neville kicked a stone down the path. 

She huffed. “Well works.. amazing but can’t really explain why..” 

“Oh, so there is a God ?” Hermione looked at him questionly. “Since He has spared me from hearing about all the inane details of you turning baby hippogriffs into, I don’t know, Molly Weasley’s infamous Shepard Pie.”

Hermione sniffed a slightly runny nose. “Well actually, trials have been terrible failures so far. The poor calves are turning into Ginny’s attempts at the Pie and you can imagine all the cases of food poisoning our interns must endure, then..”

“They have interns at the Department of Mysteries ?” 

“Well it’s more like people who accidently got stuck in the Department. They prep the tea in the morning but only the rebellious ones are turned into lab rats. Dampens the spirits.”

Neville looked down at Hermione skeptically at her dispassionate delivery. “Nah, if that were true, most of the DA would still be there now.” 

Hermione hummed. She hoped not to discuss that point further. 

“We did have some wild days, back in school.” He put out instead.

“Mmm. Might be a good reason why your father wants to know so much ? You were quite the rebel yourself.” Hermione knocked a stone near his side of the path. 

“Ha ! There’s a good point, right there.“ Neville kicked the stone back towards her side, higher up the path. “How did we survive it, Herms ?”

Hermione’s mouth quirked sweetly at the nickname. “Who knows ?”

She stepped over the stone and kept walking. Neville sighed. “Who knows..“

They were about a quarters way around the lake. A straight shot from Hogwarts still but the path was closing towards the sharper curves of the lake. The bridge that crossed the narrowest part of the lake neared and the old structures from the TriWizards Tournament stood like monuments to a simpler time in the distance. “Hey Neville ?”

“Yeah, Hermione ?”

She adjusted her cloak against another strong gust. “This is a really fucking huge lake.”

“It is.”

She slowed. “Want to turn back now ?” 

“Yes.”

“Got it.” She turned on her heel fluidly then shouted, “Beat you there !” And bolted into a run.

“Hey !” The laugh cut off somewhere behind her and she heard his heavy boots hitting the grainy dirt as she ran nearly blindly back in the direction they just came. Their calls and laughs were whipped up in the winds and tossed high in the sky.


	23. gasp, sex ??

**CHAPTER TWENTY THREE**

Returning to the castle, Hermione was grumpy, cold, and half slicked in mud while Neville only sported himself an obnoxious grin. She’d been so close to beating him, only 10 or so yards off from the side entrance to his quarters, when she had turned to laugh back at him and slipped straight off her feet in an unsuspecting patch of muck near the greenhouse. She’d landed on the side of her ass and heard Neville erupt with booming laughter. Hermione then forfeited her dignity to just lay there, catching her breath.

She was escorted inside and directed to the bathroom to clean up as soon as they got in. Sure, she could’ve wicked it away at any point sooner, but there was a primal honour in being filthy and just keep walking. A rap on the door and Neville presented her with his own sweater and pair of comfy pants. “Here, I keep these by the fire. Nice and toasty.”

Hermione smiled back, tired and warmed by the familiar gesture. “Thank, you Neville.” 

He gripped the door knob and shrugged with a dopey smile. “ ‘Least I could do.. You did fall into a spot of threstral manure.” 

She gaped at the quickly shut door behind him. “You’re such a liar !” She heard his muffled chuckle as he walked away. 

“Whatever you say, Her-musty Stranger .. I’ll put on a kettle !”

She shook her head and held the very soft and warm sweater in her hand before scourging the most of the muck away. Draco had come up with the name years ago when he wanted to let her know she’d been postponing a bath much too long. “My ass… I’ll get his entire wardrobe thick with it if he’s right..”

The kettle was belting its crescendo when she exited the washroom. The sweater was much too broad in the shoulders and the sleeves dropped past her finger tips. It felt relaxed and familiar of their last days in Hogwarts where Hermione and Draco would constantly be stealing Neville’s clothing for the oversized warmth. She suspected this grey cashmere set was a gift from the blond git himself. Shuffling out, the pant legs dragged on the floor and she saw Neville setting up two mugs at the table. “Minerva sent down food, d’you want tea or something else to drink with dinner ?”

Hermione blushed. _I’ll have to have a talk to Min when I see her.. I can see right through your schemes, you meddling crow.._ “Water is good. We can sip on tea after.”

Neville nodded and pulled out her chair. Hermione accepted the seat and sat down to be pushed in. He seated himself across from her and began dressing his plate of fish’n’chips with some salt and vinegar. “Got any ketchup ?”

Neville made a face. “Godrick, no. I’m not an animal.”

Hermione laughed. “I don’t think animals even like ketchup. Umpf ?”

Immediately, the old grey elf popped up next to her chair in a minty cloud. “Missus ~ ! Would Missus like some peppermint tea ?” Excitement glinted in his eyes and gave an exaggerated wink to her. 

Hermione shook her head no. “Maybe later, but I see you’ve been doing well, Umpf.”

His ears drooped slightly, but pulled back bashfully at her comment. “Well, Missus… “ Umpf lifted a skinny wrinkled leg to show off his new delicious smelling foot covered in a very nice pair of slippers. “Missus is a good Missus.”

“Wonderful !” Hermione clapped her hands together in joy and Umpf managed a slight bow. “If you don’t mind, may you send for some ketchup, please ?”

Neville watched confusedly at the strange interaction. 

“Right away, Missus !”

The elf poofed away and a bottle of bright red sauce appeared on the table with a flourish.

“Blimey, I’ve never heard him speak..”

“Maybe he has nothing to say to you, Longbottom.” Hermione tutted in a very McGonagall like manner before dumping the sauce in a pile over her fries. 

“Merlin.. That is repulsive. “ 

“So is your breath but I don’t point that out at the dinner table either.”

Neville dropped his jaw. “You just did - now ?!”

“Irrelevant.”

He chuckled and dug in anyway. “You’re a strange bird, Hermione. Can’t believe you still eat that stuff. No wonder Minerva is trying to marry you away.”

She snorted and dipped the golden bite of fillet into the provided tartar sauce. “Good luck with that. I’m in no rush to settle down.”

Their utensils clicked and speared the delicious assortment of fried food. Neville swallowed down his forkful of cod. “Yes, how goes it in the love department, by the way ?”

“Gods, you people are so nosey !” Neville laughed. Sipping his water, he replied. “Can you blame us ? All we do is teach horny young students the same curriculum day in and out. We live for the gossip.”

She sighed and snatched a fry off his plate. “Well then you’ll have to starve. I just work, go home, and sleep if I’m lucky. Nothing going on here. What about you, hm ?”

Neville shrugged. “I’m happy. I do what I want, when I want, and I’m in no shortage of projects. Again, this school tends to depress any type of sex drive.. not that I’m sure I had much in the first place.”

Hermione hummed and nodded. “I agree. School, then the War, then school, and suddenly the Ministry.. I’m too busy for any of the fuss.”

Neville's mouth fell lopsided. “No, it’s not like that.. I have plenty of time for myself. I don’t think I’m interested in having a partner. Or sex at all.”

Hermione’s fork stilled. Her cheeks heated slightly due to the topic. “What do you mean ? You don’t want a girlfriend ?”

Neville squinted at Hermione and scoffed, shaking his head. “No ! No.. it’s, Merlin. I forget that it must be different when you’re muggle born.”

The chair legs scraped as she pulled back, “Oh God, could someone please just tell me what you’re talking about.”

Neville’s thoughtful smile faded. Setting down his utensils, he leaned in close, “Alright, suppose it makes sense to say something.” He waited for her pouty expression to stop before he continued. “So, it’s something like this. We’re magic, yeah ? Well magic enables us to do things that are more like impossible for muggles. Because this access is so free, you really aren’t confined to any type of gender or looks or sex, if that makes sense ?”

Hermione tossed her hands in the air angrily. “Why haven’t I heard about this before ?”

Neville didn’t look in the slightest bit cowed. “Well they can’t go about teaching Sexual Education in Hogwarts can we ? Too many complaints from parents - especially muggle ones. You see, we have a lot of differences to muggles in that department. Muggles often associate witches or wizard with crazy sex cults that you muggles can come up with from time to time. If a muggleborn child goes on to share these facts to their parents then suddenly, you have waves of rioting parents claiming we are corrupting innocent minds. If these portions of the magical community are removed from the population--”

“Then the concentration of bloodlines are too thick ?”

“Exactly.” Neville responded. “I mean, it’s not perfect. A lot of muggleborns slip through the cracks and only receive muggle level sexual education, but the idea is that one learns by going through puberty with the rest of your peers. Madam Pompfrey was always available to answer any questions without bias.”

The crispness of her chips were sogging up from their own steam. “Yes, I know but.. I never.. I would never… “ Hermione trailed off, arms wrapping around herself. “I was always busy with school work and Harry, you know ?”

“Yeah, muggles are supposed to be real private about these topics, right ? Terrible.. You guys really have all the disadvantages.” Hermione prickled and shot a glare. “Oops. Sorry, Herms.”

They sat like that awhile. Neville patiently waiting as Hermione processed it all. 

“Then,” Hermione began, clearly frustrated but continued. “What do you mean by your comment about ‘sex drive’ earlier.

Neville smiled gently. “Oh, I mean I am asexual.”

Her brow furrowed. “What does that mean ?” 

Neville stood up and grabbed their empty cups from the table. “Let’s sit down by the fire, yeah ?” Hermione watched him enter the kitchen and listened to the sound of cupboards opening and closing. 

“Alright, Professor.. “ She grumbled before wandering over to the living room to flop onto his couch.

He chuckled returning with the steaming cups. “I’ve already had the talk with some of my students, Hermione. There’s no shame here.” He handed her a mug shaped like a large toad. The set was a gift from Luna when he originally got the job as Herbology Professor. When placed on the table, it would puff its vocal sac, gurgle on the liquid inside, and ribbit. “I’ll tell you what I told them, I’m asexual. I don’t feel a strong sexual attraction to people and I’m completely fine with that.”

Hermione held the toad mug like a steaming hot anchor. “So you don’t want to get married ? Or have children ?”

“I never said that. I said I don’t feel attraction to men, women, or otherwise. I can still get lonely, I can still have sexual needs, and I can still want to have a partner one day. And for children, I have enough of them to deal with at the moment.” He smiled easily. 

Hermione thought about Lex and Fletch. Both had these rich, complex lives completely unhindered by public debate. “Oh..” 

“It’s okay, Hermione. Merlin knows you are a genius with everything you touch. You can always ask me if you have any other questions.. Hell, you could ask Minerva, too. I think she’s ace as well.”

She shrugged down and curled her limbs together over herself. “Thanks, Neville..” Trailing off, she felt distinctly othered. Sure, it was nice to hear more coming from a close friend. But, she could help feeling stupid and frustrated at herself. To her, she thought she was doing well for herself.. A working witch with an excellent Ministry job and a flat to herself. _Shouldn’t I be beyond this by now ?_ Neville laid a hand on her knee and squeezed. Looking closely into her creamy cup of swirling tea, her nose scrunched and her mouth set in a quirk. _Maybe, that’s why I get along so well with Neville and Minerva ? Could I be asexual, too ?_ Her eyebrows furrowed in concern and her mouth dipped in a quirk. 

Suddenly, the fireplace that the two were enjoying the heat from flashed green and Alice Longbottom swept into the living room with ferocity. Hermione, in surprise, sloshed the second cup of tea on her front that day. “Yeek-!”

Neville quickly stood to cast a charm to fix the burn and looked over to address his mum. “Oh, hello Mum. Wasn’t expecting you and Da today ?”

Hermione’s face burned red and wicked the liquid away with a twitch of her fingers. Alice stared down at her with an intense and very long, calculating look. She only broke the heavy glare to check her son and checked the door to see Hermione’s grey cloak and mucky boots left at the side entrance of the Quarters. She finally noted the two unattended dinners at the table and Hermione wearing Neville’s clothing. Hermione wished she could disapparate from the couch in that second. 

“He’s not coming, it’s just me.” Alice answered shortly. “I didn’t realize you’d be having guests.”

Neville stood protectively in front of Hermione and crossed his arms. “I was spending time with my friend, Mum.”

At his cold tone, Alice finally released Hermione from her stare and carefully addressed his defensive position. Her eyes fluttered and softened. “I’m sorry, Neville. I did drop in unannounced. I’ll send a Patronus next time, first.” Hermione was blown away by the absolutely sincerity and softness in this powerful woman’s voice. 

“It’s fine, Mum.” Neville, on the other hand, responded in absolute steel. 

She couldn’t see it, but Hermione suspected that an unspoken conversation was occurring on the opposite side of her friend. _Oh shit._

“It’s alright ! I need to go, anyway.” Hermione announced and rolled off the couch and towards the door. 

“It’s fine, Hermione. Mum can go.” He didn’t look away from his mother while saying this and the women immediately cringed at the icy tone.

“Sweetie, I-”

“I was about to leave-”

Alice immediately reared an ugly face at the young witch at being interrupted and saw Hermione only looking desperately at her friend who wasn’t acknowledging her. That was the final straw, for Alice turned back to Neville with a sigh before looking back to her. “Hermione.”

She, in turn, froze at hearing her name. She didn’t dare speak. 

The older witch let out a sigh again and Hermione was reminded of the poor woman she’d seen so many times before in St Mungo’s. Her frailty and her absence. Alice began, “I’m sorry for the way I have been treating you.”

Neville and Hermione both dropped their jaws. 

“I didn’t think that you might have also been affected by .. _the War._ ” Everyone thought she would’ve said _her_ name instead. “Either way, my behaviour is inexcusable. You were a major player from what I’ve heard and beyond that.. A good friend to my son.”

Hermione just stared back speechless. From the corner of her eye, she could see Neville turning between his mother and his friend. 

And like the cherry on top of the cake, Alice finished by saying, “I just hope that you’ll give me a chance to earn your forgiveness.. Hermione.”

The fire cracked and the three stood silently. Neville slowly pulled his eyes from his mother’s face to look at Hermione. 

_Are they expecting an answer now ?_

The toad mug ribbited.

“I’ll… yes, that’s okay.” As soon as the words left Hermione’s uncertain lips, the tension in both Longbottoms relaxed. “But ! I need to go-” She cast her eyes out at Neville and sent him a look that said they’ll talk later and called out. “Nice seeing you- both ! Bye.”

Summoning her items she marched to the door that led to the rest of the castle and left. 

  
  



	24. protec! attac!

**CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR**

“Fuck. Fuck!” The tears streamed down Hermione’s face and she didn’t care. “Fuck !”

The stone floors were cold and uncaring to her sock clad feet as she escaped the main floor of the castle. She stomped senselessly down the hall, the only direction she intended to go was far, far away. If she didn’t stop moving she knew she’d break down. 

“Umpf !” Her voice sounded deranged to her own ears. The shaking extended up her elbows now. 

An eager pop filled the area a few paces behind her. “Yes Missu-- Oh !” Hurried pads followed after her quickly. “How, huff, may Umpf help, Mis--”

Hermione spun back on the elf, the magic sizzled around her like a storm. “Get your tea.” 

The elf cowered at the thunder in her tone and nodded much too quickly. “Yes, Missus!” 

She came down on him and Umpf feared she’d plow straight through him with her unseeing expression. Surprisingly, Hermione stopped with her hand outstretched for apparition. He gulped and took it. They left the hall in a snap. This time, Hermione almost caught the ghost by surprise. 

“Oh! Puppy, you’r--” 

“Notes. I will take them home.”

Bellatrix hesitated in her seat. She curled in front of the hearth, closer than any living being should’ve stayed for such a ferocious blaze. The younger witch had landed once again on the bed but this time, landed expertly on her feet and took off towards the bookcases without so much as a stumble. 

“What is it this time ?” She asked, her voice missing any sardonic humour. Swiveling around, Bellatrix finally noticed the elf from before. He quivered beside the mattress. “Hermione ?”

The concern fell on deaf ears, Hermione was busy snatching up sorted piles of paper from the low shelves. She dropped her mud caked boots and cloak in a dirty heap and went to work on the piles of notes. Each paper crumpled roughly in her terrible hands. She didn't even scanned over one collection of loose parchment for more than a half second before aggressively scattering them to the ground. 

“Hey ! Pet - ” Bellatrix called and floated over. The sheets flapped loudly, cutting at her ears and pride making Bellatrix worry her brows together. Eating the distance between them, Bellatrix could hear the ragged breaths from halfway across the room. “Hey, now.. Hermione..” The voice was so soft. Hermione's vision bounced with the heavy heaves of her chest. Then her sight grew watery and blurred the world into a ruined painting. Her vison swam and her frustration headed. “No, no, no, fuck! Fuck.” She didn't even register the cold that intensified around her. “Stop fucking crying..” Her teeth began to chatter.

Mumbling under her breath, she could've growled. She could’ve screamed. _No no no no no no , no ! Quit being such a brat -_

There was no way to describe the shock of a warm hand touching the small of Hermione’s back. She cried out, something pained, something embarrassed. Hermione whipped her gaze over her shoulder into they met each other’s eyes when Bellatrix saw it. 

Shame. 

Hermione felt like she was on fire. Like she wanted to cast herself on fire. To do something to ignite every nerve on her body. To give her real pain, sensible pain. Anything but this rotten, inexplicable feeling. Her frame trembled like her body was running a time elapsed decomposition turning her every molecule into guilt, guilt, black and toxic guilt. Even through the sustained eye contact her lungs continued to demand oxygen like she was escaping Snatchers. Her body folded and, although taller than the ghost, she contracted into something so small she wondered if she could still be a person. Her eyes pleaded and wailed but her mouth hung open in a silent scream. 

Bellatrix was the calmest she’d ever seen. Eyes so dark she’d loved to crawl inside them and die. Hermione couldn’t even see the flickering firelight through them.

The pressure on her back increased.

Slowly, the pair turned to properly face one another, the ghost as guide. The first step was the hardest. Her legs hurt, she was clenching them so bad, she was scared she’d fall. 

“It’s okay..” 

The voice like ointment. The voice like black night. 

Her leg closest buckled first, more a stagger than a step. Hermione's shoulders shook, too. 

“There, that’s it, pet.. Very good now.”

The next step was a success. An approving nod. Then another. 

“I’ve got you. Come now.”

Step by step. They travelled. Hermione felt sick. She bet she looked sick.

_Sick, sick._ A new mantra. 

“Look at you. Very good.” The interruption of her internal chant was rude, but the demons inside were momentarily silenced. 

Slowly, the colours on her peripheral shifted. They passed the fireplace. “Excellent, pet… Excellent.”

Hermione’s throat was dry and tight, she imagined it was a tight braid of rope, rubbing the interior of her throat raw and fraying under the stress. 

“Good, good, Hermione.” The nod was so mesmerizing that Hermione almost nodded back as well. “Forgive me.”

She didn’t have a moment to wonder what that meant. Her foot caught air not stone and Hermione plunged into the small pool of water. Suddenly, all air was now occupied by cool touch. The pressure of water around her. Her weight seemed confused and pulled oddly all over. The temperature, though the same as the room above, felt like sweet cool prickles over every inch of skin. The view was complete darkness. She blinked and felt the water move away and against her eyes again. 

Then a burning. 

She couldn’t breath. 

_Air._

Her brain sparked to life. Limbs back online and now struggling to push herself upwards. 

It only took one mighty coordination of arms and legs to force herself upwards far enough to break the surface. She gasped for air. 

Next was finding the rim of the pool. A short search, but Hermione was surprised that the dimensions of the pool weren’t limited to just the circumference of the pond. Irritation bubbled with the knowledge that she could’ve gone under and gotten trapped beneath the floor. “F-fuck !”

“I’ve told you my thoughts about a foul mouth.” The gentle drawl came for the opposite side of the pond.

“Y-ou-ou bitch !” The words stuttered out. Her jaw spasmed. The air was noticeable colder now that she was soaked to the bone.

“Well, that’s just mean.” 

Blinking away the blurriness she swiped her hand across her wet face to rid the water. Her arm surfaced heavily from the weight of Neville’s thick, waterlogged sweater sleeve. Bellatrix came back into view. She was sitting cross legged on the rim of the pond with her skirts bunched up on her lap. 

“Welcome back.” The tease wasn’t as dry as her past deliveries. In fact, if Hermione wasn’t neck deep in an unexpected swim, she might’ve laughed. “W-wha ..? Why..”

“You were panicking, I think.” Her lip pouted slightly in thought and her large eyes wandered the rest of the room nonplussed. “You better not go on me again, you hear ? This trick only works once, so if I lose you again, I’m pushing you into the fire.”

Hermione’s breathing had calmed significantly but her blood flow redirected to her cheeks as realization set. “Oh, Jesus.”

“Yes, Jesus.” Bellatrix nodded. “Jesus, indeed.”

Hermione shook her head and groaned. “Fuck me..”

“Ew.” 

Hermione ignored that and turned around to try and crawl her way out of the pool. The deed was ungraceful and demeaning. It was all the more difficult with the lack of walls to push off of and the water soaked cashmere and wool she was wearing was unbearably heavy. Several efforts were paused to ensure she didn’t lose her pants in the process. 

Bellatrix watched it all with masked delight. _Muddy could turn the brightest of reds._

Once she had gotten her tummy and tops of her thighs out of the water, Hermione tiredly rolled over and out of the pool, water sloshing after her. She lay there, limbs spread, suppressing her pants.

“Woo! Ten points for Gryffindor !” The ghost cheered and clapped. 

“Shut up, I could’ve drowned !” Hermione yelled hoarsely to the ceiling hoping to guilt the ghost. 

“You’re a witch, are you not ?” 

Hermione could’ve slapped herself in the face. 

A chuckle descended from above that seemed to indicate that Bellatrix read her mind. “Ah.. poor wittle Mudblood.”

“Fuck you.”

“My, my, twice an offer in one day. Maybe, I won’t refuse a third..”

Hermione’s eyes snapped open and she sprung up on an elbow to find the damned ghost. She found her picking up the papers by the bookshelf.. Her face flushed again and averted her eyes from the exaggerated bend at the waist. Her skin was tightening from the cold and she dismissed the heat that burned in her middle. One hand cast the water from the clothes while her other tried to smooth the sweater over her breasts. _Calm down, you two._ She rose back to her unsteady feet and approached the ghost who continued to sway busily. The cold wasn’t helping her unruly nipples in the slightest. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry.. I..”

“It’s fine, you can’t stop those.”

Hermione opened her mouth to say more, but stilled. 

Looking at the ghost who completely ignored her presence, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d experienced panic attacks before herself. Her mind answered. _Of course she hasn’t - she’s Bellatrix LeStrange_ and _of course she had - she’s Bellatrix LeStrange_ at the same time, each sentiment feeling equally true. She was nowhere near confident enough to ask. 

Bellatrix had gathered all the sheets from the cobblestone and was now patiently reading enough of each paper to sort them back to their correct order. She couldn’t help but stare. The volume of her curls were so luscious and effortless. The profile of her face, a pointed chin and straight nose. Sculpted brows above such attentive eyes. Eyes that saw everything. _To remain beautiful forever._ The thought drifted slowly by and she wanted to shiver. Hermione noted the way her eyebrows would jump once she’d recognize the text and remembered where the page was to go. Hermione swallowed as she mapped the smooth plain of her throat as it's cords moved below the untouched skin. _Didn’t she have a tattoo there ..?_

“You’re staring, puppy..” 

It wasn’t quite a growl but tingles raced across her body nonetheless. Hermione sniffed guiltily and turned away, missing the smile that grew on the ghost’s face. “Ahem. Th..ank you. For helping me.”

She was still. The witch turned soundlessly and Hermione was certain that even if she was alive, she would’ve made just as much noise. “Here.” She had to step back quickly to see the pile of papers Bellatrix hovered in her hands. _When did I get so close ?_ “Notes for the week. I expect you to return them to me in the same, if not, better condition then they are in now.” Her voice lowered. “Am I making myself clear ?” 

“Yes.” It fell out of her mouth like an impulse. 

Bellatrix gave her a crooked smile and Hermione forgot to breathe. “Excellent.” Bellatrix gilded right past her and Hermione felt the raised lace of her sleeve catch on the fabric of her own. “Right. Now take Minty and get lost.”

Hermione felt a slurry of emotions before casting an inquisitive glance back at the bed. Only then did she finally notice the poor elf still present in the room. “Umpf !” 

“Quit looking at my rear then, Granger.” 

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head from the joke but chose not to speak until she was safe and out of the Room of Requirements, into the halls, and far enough away that a certain undead Death Eater couldn’t over hear her, again. 

Umpf had kindly apparated the two to the hallway before the Griffin statue and Hermione went down on her knees to give him a hug. “I’m so sorry I frightened you earlier.”

Umpf stayed still in the embrace but was far from tense. “No trouble, Missus, no trouble at all.”

“No, please. I’ll ask Minerva to import a shipment of some very special tea for you. I’ve heard that Jamaican Mint tea is so strong, the smell alone will ease your feet.”

Umpf smiled like a sock puppet. “Missus is truly wonderful.” 

She placed a kiss on his head and the elf preened before popping away. 

Hermione sighed, ready for the day to be over. Trudging back to the Griffin, he wordlessly moved aside to allow her passage. Entering the Headmistress’ Office she took in Severus reading by the hearth with Minerva’s feet in his lap. “ 'Ermione !” The witch had half her back bent over the arm of her chair and a cup of water clutched to her chest. “We didn’ ‘xpect to see you back !” 

She shut the door behind her and looked questioningly at the tired man. “Elfish wine for dinner.” He recited. 

“Ah..” She made her way in. “Do you need any help getting back home, Sev?”

Crossing the floor, she helped put Minerva to rights who squealed in delight from the dizzying adventure. “I think I will stay until she’s sober. Can’t have her rummaging about looking to find where we hidden the Goblin made Spirits.”

“We ‘ave more ?” The question came out scandalized and Hermione laughed and Snape's mouth twitched happily. 

“Thanks, Sev. I love you, Min.” The older witch burst into a cascade of giggles while Hermione summoned her bag once more. “I’m gonna head out, I think.”

Severus ignored Minerva’s teasing expressions and raised a brow. “Is everything alright ?”

When it comes to Severus, that’s as close as it gets to a hug. “Yeah.. just a long day is all.”

He said nothing but dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Very well. I’ve gotten Wino, here, to sip her water so you are free to go.” 

“Wino !? ‘Ow ‘bout min-o business.” Minerva shouted much too loud then laughed even louder at her own joke. Hermione touched Severus’ shoulder in a silent thank you and then moved over to give Minerva the Hermione special, which was just a very long hug.

“I’ll see you later, Minnie.” 

“See my ass. ’M gone !” Minerva wriggled in Hermione's embrace and managed two flailing arms around her former student. “Gone, I-say.” 

“She’ll be out for interviews, but she’ll be back before the party.”

Hermione was shocked at how quickly the day had come. “If not, we just dress you up as Headmistress for the weekend.” She supplied.

“Don’t be absurd.” He massaged a stocking clad foot in his large hands. “How would we explain her staggering drop in age ?”

Minerva must have been further gone than expected, seeing as her only response was to hunker down into her armchair and grumble sleepily. Hermione smiled at the pair and grabbed some floo powder in her hand. 

“Oh and Hermione ?” She turned back to see Snape hiding a smile. “Are those Professor Longbottom’s clothes ?” 

Hermione flushed hard for the millionth time that day and chose to leap into the green flames rather than waiting to explain herself to Minerva and her raucous cackling.


	25. idk worldbuilding maybe?

**CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE**

The work week was surprisingly boring and seemed to last forever, Hermione found. It was hard to keep her attention on her job between the emotionally exhausting weekend she just had and the absolutely exciting one that approached. Even her office seemed tame and small compared to the parade of curisous musings stomping around in Hermione's head.

The biggest worry on her mind was the party. Most of the people she was about to see she hadn’t seen since Christmas, and in some cases, since last year’s attendance. The majour differences between this year's and last year's End of War Party was twofold. First of all, 2004 marks the fifth year since the battle of Hogwarts. This meant that it’s been half a decade since the end of the War. Even now, the vast majourity of Hogwarts students had only ever seen the aftermath of the destruction on the castle and the people inside. Possibly the youngest combatants had just graduated in June, too, and if their guts were any indication of how they party, then the organizers won’t know what hit them. Secondly, the Holyhead Harpies had played so terribly in the preseason that they were just two games away from dropping out this year. 

And thus, Ginny Weasley was made the primary organizer this year. 

The order of those in charge of the gathering happened like so, with Hermione heading the first celebration. Being one of the only 19 year olds in the castle, at the time, she bought all the alcohol she could afford from her tutoring gigs, which was plenty. Work was non-stop, being that every student needed to re-attended their previous year with some even having been barred from an education the year before. Remarkably, she had also convinced Minerva to host the party inside the castle during the last week of school. It had been a fantastic disaster. Every prohibited substance in Hogwarts A History had made an appearance that weekend and McGonagall had gotten so drunk, she enchanted all of the castle’s suits of armour again and they partied long after every living being in attendance had passed out in exhaustion. They even needed to delay the Hogwarts Express home. 

Next was Harry. He decided that Hogsmede would be the location of the party. Using his new position as Junior Auror in Community Relations, he managed to get every shop, inn, and bar in town to open for 48 hours straight to accommodate the rush. Unfortunately, with the absolute fanfare surrounding his name, the decision to host so publicly, and not to mention that it was also the turn of the century that year - it led to over seven times the crowds of the year before. If Harry Potter was any other man in the world, he would’ve lost his job and received multiple charges for the sheer debauchery that his weekend facilitated. 

Ron, however, had been incredibly well thought out in his maneuver. Seeing as he had two years to plan, he started by contracting vendors and acquiring all types of permits months before the party began. He sent out invitations to each of the attendants of Hermione’s year and gave them all portkeys that would only activate for said guest and their plus one. Another large change that Ron enacted was to celebrate on the day that Hogwarts was unofficially rebuilt, not the day that the War ended, around the second last weekend of July. This meant no more underage students crashing the party.

Then, using the Quibbler as the main source to spread the information to the public, he announced a number of tickets to be sold for a buy-in to pay over the expenses so far incurred. The locations for tickets were hand picked businesses of former fighters and families of victims of the War, with a concerted effort to help bring awareness to non pureblood owned businesses. All additional proceeds went to a War fund accessible to those who couldn’t already be uplifted by these publicity stunt. His plan even got the Original Dumbledore’s Army as well as the Order of the Phoenix to spend time together alone for a more intimate gathering at the Hog’s Head the Saturday morning before the party started, too. 

That years party took place, very sentimentally, in the Forest of Dean. Tents very similar to the Trio’s during their time on the run were given to every guest. Off duty Aurors, supplied by a very embarrassed Harry, oversaw the security of the party and prevented crashers or other more malicious attendees from entering. The guests would party all night and sleep in dark, cozy tents all day. Some of the best times Hermione had were at wee hours of the morning, when those who were too wired to sleep would build fires and camped out together, sharing stories under the morning stars.

Neville was the next to take charge on the fourth anniversary but chose not to make many changes from last year’s success. He did, however, take additional responsibility for organizing the DA and the Order’s holiday get-togethers for the rest of the year. They were similar to Ron’s pre-parties with the only change being that the rooms were provided at, the much cleaner, Three Broomsticks. Aberforth was just as relieved as the rest of the guests.

Hermione sighed and watched the hours tick down to punch out. It was only Tuesday and yet, she was already mentally done with the week. Twiddling a small, worn Rubik’s cube at her desk in the Department of Mysteries, her blood hummed in anticipation to see the changes Ginny would make this year. 

She put down the cube, two sequences from it’s completion and stared at it. She had received a three by three for her Thirteenth Birthday from her dad. _A play on numbers_ , he might’ve called it. The next year, a four by four, then a five by five, a six by six, a seven by seven but then, out of the blue, a two by two. The last one was gifted to her the month after the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. Dumbledore was dead and Hogwarts was taken by Death Eater rule. She, along with the rest of the students, went home for the Summer Hols early. Her teachers at one point Owled her the summer homework and she didn’t touch it for weeks. 

Then one day, when Hermione was spending yet another evening watching movies in her pjs on the couch after another sleepless night, he dropped a small gift bag on her belly. “Got you something, Buttercup.”

She glared at him for the jolt he caused her, but he only nodded to the bag and kissed her on the forehead. 

A few weeks later, she dissolved every memory they had of her.

The 2x2 sat in front of her now, well loved. The rest of her collection, she suspected, were in various places of the Weasley household having almost every sibling, and one parent, try their luck at solving the damn things. 

This one she kept. 

Hermione sighed and looked at her spread of papers on her desk. All confidential and all alluring to her usually hungry mind. She imagined a little Hermione dressed in her school robes, new Rubik’s cube to solve on the train to Hogwarts, who would be ecstatic at having a job like this. _I spent a lot of time in the Infirmary fiddling with these things, too._ She wished she could see that girl now and warn her. 

The oily clock twitched soundlessly. She thought about the situation with the Longbottoms. Today held an unexpected flurry of activity in the main atrium of the Ministry. Large panels of the uniform, shiny black walls projected several clips of Minister Kingsley and Harry announcing the miraculous awakening of Alice and Frank Longbottom. Daily Prophets and Quibblers were in everyone’s hands in the elevator ride down this morning. Each person exited the lift, completely consumed in the breaking news, and Hermione stood in the back corner, the only person painfully empty handed. The front page of the Prophet showed Frank’s laugh booming soundlessly as he shook Harry’s hand so vigorously, that Harry’s glasses slid down his nose. Alice stood back to back with her husband, her poses were of her giving the Minister of Magic a firm shake and looking strikingly into the camera. 

Hermione was both impressed and queasy. 

The apology from Neville's mom the day before was.. not a good experience for Hermione. It felt unearned. Here was a woman, a girl who just left Hogwarts and immediately joined both the Aurors as well as the Order of the Phoenix. And then, between the absolute stress and tension in the world, she married her high school sweetheart and had a baby to boot! They, like Harry’s parents, were supposedly famous for their hero status in the British Wizarding Community. Alice and Frank Longbottom had their full life ahead of them until it was cruelly snatched away.

_Suppose a lot of people thought the same would occur with Ron and me._ Hermione spun in her chair, thinking over the past few years. _Hell, I did too._

Somewhere in the chaos, they’d lost the plot. Ron wanted forgiveness, Harry wanted to heal, Hermione wanted to forget.

_Ginny and Harry were able to give each other what they needed. But me and Ron ? We just.. couldn’t._

A weary sigh deflated her chest and she spun in her chair to face the back wall of her Office. There was just enough space for her to plant her feet against the dark panels to stretch out her sleepy legs.

Thankfully, she didn’t lose all her friends. Her mouth wobbled fondly at the thought. Neville had grown to be an invaluable friend to her that first year back at school. They both studied closely with the returning Professors, Neville with Professor Sprout and Flitwick, and Hermione with McGonagall, Vector, and Babbling. Along the way, Draco had also helped out with just Slughorn, and the three became a new, unlikely trio. Together they became something like Teacher Assistants, helping mark tests, papers, and projects of the younger students, mostly in the shadows of the quietly slumbering library walls. 

They were all escaping something. 

They all kept each other busy…

Hermione stared past her feet to zone out at the walls of her Office, smooth and dark as hot tar. It was just one more a stroll down memory lane to pull her away from reality again, memory dragging over her body thickly and swallowing her up in a warm, gooey embrace. _I need to get my mind off of the past._ Her shoes parted cleanly from the sinister wall. Not a trace of muck. 

She groaned. She had left her boots and cloak in the Room of Requirements the other day on accident. 

_And then there’s the biggest headache of them all:_

_Bellatrix_

_Bellatrix Black LeStrange_

Hermione flushed at the thought of the witch. At least that purged her mind of it’s lonely, self cannibalizing thoughts. _Bellatrix’s charcoal eyes and disarming smiles.._ Thinking back, she wasn’t even certain if the ghost appeared translucent at all the last time she saw her. She seemed so real. _And her hand …_ She blushed, heat gathering in her cheeks and chest. _What was with her anyway? Making all those damn comments.._

She was intriguing in so many ways. Most would shoot that familiar trill through her middle. Along with a stirring of something else than she’d have to examine another time. The red leather she sat on let out a small creak in the vacuum silence of her office. _I need to get a grip.. That witch isn’t some pet project or some pretty face, she’s a psycho…_ The voice in her head who made the reasonable points lectured but Hermione had a hard time taking heed of the warnings lately.

_Besides_ , she reasoned. _Bellatrix was dead and essentially harmless.. Unlike Alice Longbottom._

She didn’t regret releasing them, but she did regret that Alice had seen her do it. After all, breaking the spell was a good thing. That thought didn’t do anything to subside the guilt she harboured. _So much guilt .._ Her jaw clenched. _Fucking Bellatrix._ She could practically hear the ghost respond with half a dozen sultry responses. She snorted haughtily to herself. Her collar burned at the thought and a swirling of a different kind of heat brewed somewhere she didn’t dare place. 

_Why am I so affected by her ?_

Absentminded fingertips brushed at her blouse and loosened the top two buttons. The skin on her collarbones were way too sensitive to have that sort of reaction by the new, slightly cool air. Her knees came together and her focus drew south of her sternum. Hermione finally acknowledged her predicament and added it to the laundry list of her ever growing worries. She couldn’t believe the strength and speed of her body's reaction. Even shifting in her seat seemed like a salacious idea at the moment.

So she remained still in her pleasant suffering. 

Letting her breaths grow heavy of their own accord, she meditated on her body’s strange response. Instead of trying to determine prematurely the reason for her behaviour, she curiously decided to just lean back and observe. 

First, she relaxed her legs to fall from their position pinned to the wall. She thought she quite liked the view of her legs suspended in the air. The trill in her stomach added with something heady, the knowledge that she’s sitting in her office, alone, in her very nice Ministry job… getting off.

It was beyond her usual thrill of rule bending. There was always a motive there. The good outweighed the consequences.

But now ?

It was the fact that there _were_ consequences that drew the delicious excitement.

So she shifted in her seat. The heat _itched_. 

So she rubbed her thighs together. Her eyes fluttered. 

So she took in a deep breath and imagined palms dragging across her ribs to meet her breasts. She released the held breath.

Hermione clutched and relaxed her grip on her chair arms. The next exhale was low and ragged. Her blood hot and determined.

_God… What am I doing ?_

Then there was a knock at the door.

Her feet slammed to the floor so fast that she nearly flung out of her chair in one go. Instinctually, she fixed herself to greet the visitor in her regular, professional manner. Heart hammering and blood rushing to rerouted paths made Hermione blink at her blotchy vision. She distantly wondered when was the last time she ate. 

“Come in !” Her throat sounded too dry and she immediately conjured up a cool glass of water to chug.

The door swung open and in walked Lex in their custom frills and pipe. “‘Ello, ‘Ermione.” They smiled happily around both their pipe as well as the vowels of their over exaggerated English accent. “Whotcher’?”

The lingo sounded foreign coming from their lips and Hermione smiled back weakly. “Hello, Lex. What brings you by ?”

She felt sorry for her shortness to essentially her only colleague, but was too busy gathering her wits to offer anything more. Thankfully, they only puffed out some red smoke from their nose and continued their closed mouth smile. “Ah, caught you during your evening Pepper Up break ?”

Luckily, she managed to send her cup into oblivion before she accidentally dropped it. “What ? No. It’s water.”

Sage filled the room along with that zingy fragrance. “Yes, and I’m smoking dried raspberries. You know, people weren’t meant to sit still and focus quietly for one third of our days.” They leaned causally on one leg and Hermione wondered again what it was inside that pipe. “Anyways, I was stretching my legs and thought if you’d like some coffee ?”

A part of her wanted to decline as she usually did with any workplace socials she'd been invited to but she’d been acting very unusual all day so why stop now. Besides, she didn’t trust her mind or her body to be alone with herself at the moment. “Sure, Lex.”

They took the elevator back up and the tiny box was nearly swarming with intra office notes. It made Hermione weary of the twitching paper, but Lex looked as calm as one would be relaxing at the end of a dock. “Suppose everyone is buzzing about the Longbottoms, eh ?”

The air was heavy with paper and Hermione’s personal cloud of apprehension. “Yeah, crazy..”

“Mhm, the papers are vague about their recovery but I suppose the information is locked tight at the moment.” A few of the notes shivered at the Lex’s fine, misty exhale. “Exciting time to be an Unspeakable, hm?”

Hermione could barely nod. 

The doors opened to the Ministry cafeteria. It was about half the size of the main atrium and twice the height to hold the large windows to the real outside world. Birds of all sizes flocked down a terminal to bring in take out and other food deliveries to the handful of cafeteria workers there. It was a constant revolution of wizards and birds that operated the station for pick up, expertly placed next to the elevators for hungry office workers tight for time. 

The large room echoed and was way less busy than Hermione expected. It had the Ministry’s trademarked black, sleek aesthetic look that contrasted with the bright blue skies visible through the vast windows. The cafeteria operated more as a place to order and receive orders of food rather than to encourage people to sit down with their meals. No table seemed equipped to hold more than two seats at a time. Even more so, the area was charmed to have little to no smell lest someone got any ideas for sticking around, much to Hermione’s relief. Her belly cringed on it’s emptiness reflexively. 

Further into the middle of the room held a station for kettles of never ending hot water and cauldrons filled with any type of beverage. The arching ceilings provided a place for the steam to rise and the fumes could be seen in plump columns in the midday light. 

Hermione paid an extra coin to the elf who maintained the area. He wore a fitted but not tight uniform of pure black, as speculated in the terms for Ministry Elf workers. The elf looked familiar and she suspected she’d seen him when organizing the Elf Labour Union a year or so back. Then again, he didn’t seem to recognize her back, yet he delivered her tea to exact measurements of her liking without her needing to say a word. _He already knew my order._ Lex was traveling back with an unconscionably tall travel mug of coffee and noticed the silent exchange.

Thankfully, they didn’t say anything about it.

They plopped themselves into the deserted sea of single seat tables and took a few moments to let their beverages cool. At least, Hermione did. Lex had started slurping at their mug that sounded like it sizzled at its chrome edges. “How’s your day going, Hermione ?”

She smiled at her first name. “Terrible ? I’ve got an awful case of foggy brain.”

Lex hummed and looked over to where the pastries were sold. “Ah, well Nargles usually can’t get into our Department, but they have been known to try.”

“Ah, you too ?” Hermione could only shake her head as she dared sip at her swirling pale drink. 

“Seeing isn’t always believing and there is so much more than meets the eye.” 

She squinted. “Isn’t that from something ?”

“Televisions really ought to be in every wizarding home in the UK.” Sharp canines flashed excitedly. “There’s more out there and I want to believe”

Hermione didn’t bother to question the crypt answer and remained silent instead. They sipped their drinks peacefully. 

“You know how I said before that you’d be well suited to meet the Head Mistress of Hogwarts ?” A gentle nod caused their lilac strands to shimmer. “Well, I’d bet you’d hit it off with some of my other friends, too.. The End of War party is this weekend, would you care to come ?”

Lex gave a full smile, lighting up their narrow, angular features. “I’d love to.” They replied, their eyes shining. 

Hermione nodded back and broke the eye contact awkwardly. “Good..”

She sat warming her digits against her cup. Air streamed out her nose in a short sigh and she repeated, “Good, good. I can let Ginny know to expect you at the Hog’s Head in Hogsmead. I’ll be apparating around noon but we can make sure the floo is available.”

They nodded. “Thank you, Hermione.”

She smiled into her cup with an absentminded nod. She was deep in thought about the Longbottoms. Sure, she would’ve invited Lex anyhow, but the idea that she could always excuse herself to chaperone her colleague around the party was a much needed relief. There was no way that the Longbottoms wouldn’t be there and Hermione didn’t want to be caught in a crowded room with Alice anymore than she had too.

A croissant slid into her view. She wasn't sure how long she zoned out for. “Here.”

Looking up, Hermione saw Lex’s gentle gaze before they raised their mug to their mouth. “Your stomach growled.”

“Oh no, it’s-” Her cheeks heated in a blush.

“I insist. I got one, too, see ?” They lifted a large, golden crescent of their own and smiled. They had to nod once more knowingly for her to give in. Together they took a crunchy, soft bite in unison.

The day ended quickly after they returned to their Department with Hermione feeling slightly less anxious for the weekend ahead.

  
  



	26. obligatory, i wanna feel drty chpt

**CHAPTER TWENTY SIX**

Wednesday held such warm, soft winds that Hermione found herself following Crookshanks onto the balcony that evening. Muggle-wise, it was in no way sanctioned. That didn’t stop Hermione from climbing her way onto her magically reinforced wood slats with a bottle of muggle rye and Ginger Ale. The sunset was a beautiful affair in purples and pinks with cute orange clouds holding the last of the sun’s dying rays. 

“Meaaa-rw ?”

Hermione had begun her evening with two shots inside and left the notes she compiled on Olde Magik on her arm chair. A fluffy, long haired tail flicked in annoyance in and out of her face as she breathed in the city. The air was heavy with everyday pollution but cool enough to relieve her lungs. Crooks was sitting on the railing of the extension next to the crude blue hammock that she suspended from nothing. 

One leg planted on the ground, she controlled her sway as her lazy fingers guided the mixed drink into a cup. 

“Mer-row !”

“Oh, hush, Crooks.. As soon as it gets too cold, I’ll leave you alone.” 

He didn’t seem impressed by the answer but only looked to the roof where he longed to go one last time before squatting along the railing instead. 

“Thank you.. good man.” She breathed out before pulling in the much too alcoholic concoction into her mouth. 

_I should visit Severus tomorrow.. Min’s not around so it’ll be good to spend some on his side just in case._

She refilled her glass and chuckled. _Good preparation for the weekend._ Hermione hummed as the pinks grew near red in the sky. She considered that she hadn’t seen most of the gang since Mother’s Day. _Harry and Ginny looked happy.._ Hermione sighed and took a large gulp. _Ron just stuffed himself as usual._

Another gulp.

She sprawled in the wrinkled set of office wear she came home in. She didn’t bother changing, just went straight to the liquor cabinet. Just another day of much too much time and not enough information. She stretched her toes before her. Her forearms bare. Shiny scar tissue from burns and cuts and … 

_**mudblood** _

Hermione sighed once more and lolled back her head against the taunt material supporting her. Blood and booze rushed to her head. Bellatrix had that way of contaminating her brain, each thought doubled to memories and doubled again, taking up exponentially more and more space in the forefront of her mind. 

She thought about what Neville had said about the Wizarding Community and sex. The comments Bellatrix made. _Could she be.. ?_

The frosty glass stilled on her way up to her lips. 

_Nah. She’s probably just trying to get under my skin._

Hermione all but chugged the rest of her drink.

_Although_ .. Her head grew fuzzy and a cool wind shot through her blouse making her shiver. _Time to go back inside._

Crawling back inside was a much more deliberate effort then it was getting out a half hour earlier. She managed to place the empty glass decanter and pop bottle right side up on her table. Attempting to slide the wonky thing back below the window was a delicate task, however. That was when the wind rustled through the thin, red curtains and knocked the plastic bottle off and deeper into her home. Wasn’t the end of the world, but the loudness caused Crooks to berate at her from the outside. “It was the wind !” He sassed back and she didn’t bother with a response. 

Next, she waltzed gracelessly to the washroom to shower some sense back into her body. 

The water was warm and comforting. The pound of the pressure on her scalp and shoulders. The texture of her shampoo in her hands. The smell of her cheap floral products and synthetic body scrubs.

She collapsed on top of her sheets with absolute dead weight. The towel clung to her damp skin and she considered wiggling under the covers and going to sleep just like that. Unfortunately, the alcohol buzzed beneath her eyelids keeping her awake. She spent a good handful of minutes trying to convince them to remain shut before she gave up. 

Hermione huffed. 

Inebriation drew a hand to the collar that she stroked yesterday in her office. The delicate touch that lit a fire the day before.

Yet nothing came. Yesterday, her body was frantic and uncaring. Now, it lay dormant on rough sheets even though she craved the opposite. Her brows furrowed, still very much tipsy, and thought of what could shift her into the mood. Back in Hogwarts, she didn’t need any type of provocation, her body was limber and studiously waited for the privacy of her four cornered bed. The Burrow and Grimmauld Place held bathroom floors to release any emergencies. The thought of those times wasn’t too pleasant, but she made the best of what she had.

What was frustrating was knowing that she’d settled for much less before and here she is now, unclothed and in the solitude of her own home and couldn’t even be bothered to be interested in herself. 

The next sigh heralded a drunk, probing hand to sneak under her towel. 

Even the thought of old fantasies couldn’t rekindle that absent flame.

Once, it was Ron, but that became hearty no years ago. Then it was Viktor, but that left so much to be desired. Fleur was just too complicated after the War. Hermione could barely look at her after being treated at Shell Cottage.

Then, finally - a spark.

Hermione swallowed nothing down a dry throat. 

The year on the run was a hard time. Forest, trees, the boys, the locket, the voices. A few days of that and the cycle repeated with a slightly newer set of trees, the boys, the locket, and the voices.

Shell Cottage provided relief barely gained from their time at Grimmauld Place. At long last, they were in a place meant for people again, a bedroom, a bathroom, real chairs and a table. That satisfied a need that a tent and a jar of fire just couldn’t fulfill. 

It was the touch starvation that surprised her the most. 

Her body responded to that.

She’d been through so much, there were so many expectations.. She couldn’t let down Harry. A war weighed on her shoulders. 

Her heels dug into the bed.

But at the Cottage, she was held.

Her head rolled back. 

She was washed. Cleaned.

Her breaths grew short. Quiet agony. 

To be handled. To be cared for. 

Her calves seized. Her knees bent. 

To feel breath on her neck. Feel soft, feminine curves.

Jaw clenched. Face half buried in her pillow. 

Long nails, the weight of her straddle..

Sweet, white hot pleasure. 

Blonde turned to a wild, dark mane.. 

Her throat strangled her whine. 

_Too late._

Hermione shuddered. Muscles tensing and spasming in waves. Wind blew from her open window. A creak from Crookshanks pacing on the balcony. She lay there letting her body relax and recover. One of her calves seized painfully and she noted to ask for more supplement potions from Severus. The deed was done, however, and she drifted to sleep never once considering who pushed her over that edge before her consciousness blackened to nothingness in the night. 

The next morning she hobbled out from underneath her sheets to dress for the day and sent a patronus to Severus before flooing to work. 

The Ministry still bustled with the recent news of the Longbottoms. Papers detailing the initial tragedy all dancing with the black and grey images of the wild, deranged witch she had met far too many times in her short life. She ignored the awkward awareness that her presence brought as she marched her way to her department. Fluttering papers and conversations died on lips as she passed and she was reminded all too clearly of her Hero status in this world. _If that was the price to pay to be a Hero, I would rather not have the honour._

_We were kids and everyone here would’ve let me die._

The sense of bitterness hovered over her shoulder the rest of the day until she called it quits to leave early. Already, her mail was packed with offers from journalists looking to write ‘Where Are They Now’ pieces on her and likely any other victim of War they could coerce into a column. It when so far that the usual papers that the Department of Mysteries circulated all carried the same questions and suspicions of how the Longbottoms woke up. She didn’t even recognize some of the handwriting as the collections of faceless Unspeakables anonymously attempted to crack the mystery. _Hell, every department in this building might be trying to ask the same question..._

It was all too much for Hermione’s hungover Thursday morning. 

She left a note for Fletch that she suspected would go unread before she headed back to the Floo system to go home. From her house, she gathered some supplies into a care package before giving Crooks a pet and disapperating to Sheffield. 

It was a cool day set with overcasts better feared in the open air of the small city rather than inside the basements of the Ministry of Magic. Exiting the alley she popped into, Hermione casted a quick glamour to rearrange some angles on her face and give herself some bangs. The area seemed to be in an awkward and depressing stage of gentrification as old steel and metal work factories were in the process of being converted into lush new apartment buildings for the burgeoning art scene to move in. Catching a cab was relatively easy and they set forth to Barnsley. 

The flipped houses transitioned back to their former glory as they exited the wealthy hub of the city. Unkempt roofs and overgrown lawns started to sprout with growing frequency through the taxi’s windows as they travelled North. Summertime meant swathes of children out and about, enjoying the warm windy air. It seemed as though even the happy children lost some of their youthful shine as they drove away from the new Industry city and towards the old coal town. Hermione watched groups of spotty kids run around the neighbourhood and crowd at different corner shops until they hit the patch of now greying greenery. The sight of the oblivious but happy children reminded her of her early days back at Hogwarts. _Then again, everything does,_ she quirked her mouth sardonically. She sighed inside the cab and wondered if Sev was smoking again and if she ought to pick him up a couple of packs. Briefly, she considered with a smile if she should try to bring over whatever it is that Lex really does smoke for a try. 

They pulled up to a row of houses on the edge of the town, the grass here seemed mostly dead and compacted with sparse clumps of litter along with other rubbish forgotten along the curbs. Hermione paid the Cabbie and left with the carebag in hand. 

She could immediately tell Severus’ house from the rest. The building wasn’t in the best conditions by far and wasn’t the nicest on the block, however the lawn was a cacophony of life. Flowers and grass grew with abandon in the front in a way that would’ve caused her mother to comment and her dad to have joked about her being too judgmental. Her half smile wavered at the thought. 

Her attention was caught then by a flicker in the attic window. 

She tensed.

Her wand was already in hand as she stormed the house ready to face whatever was inside. 


	27. 2 lazy to edit

**CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN**

If the intruder was on the second floor it meant that she had a limited amount of time to make her move. She was certain she’d already been spotted.

Hermione charmed herself to be as silent and about as invisible as possible before gliding over the foliage with a determined leap. The flowers beneath her didn’t even sway when she wizzed over. Her back hit the brick of Severus’ home roughly but soundlessly. Now that she was flush to the building, she cast out a large anti apparition ward around the property and a notice-me-not charm for any muggles in the area. 

She cursed inwardly. Her pulse raised, pumping blood through her body, filling her with adrenaline. _Shit, the one person who knows about Snape is Minerva and I don’t know where the fuck she is._

Tight, constrained breaths gripped her chest and she made a split second decision to send a patronus to Minerva anyway having no idea how long it may take to be seen. The otter swam north and Hermione rolled around the corner closer to the porch and took aim. With a surge of magic, she blew out every window in the house. 

Dodging the front door, she ran to the back to enter from the kitchen. 

The figure in the backyard made her skitter to a halt.

“Bloody fuck, Hermione ! I didn’t spit in your tea !” Severus Snape was on the patio seeming to have interrupted a lovely read in the summer air. He brushed broken glass off his person clearly annoyed. “It was a joke, girl !”

She neverminded his calm demeanor and instead cast a protego wordlessly around them both while rushing him. “There’s someone in your house !” She hissed in his ear, taking the handles of his wheelchair and rocketing them both to the back of his garden to hide behind the thin trees there. 

He let her jostle him with his arms crossed moodily over his chest. “What ? Don’t be daft, child, I’ve been inside all day. I think I’d know if I had company.”

The weak branches snapped at their faces and clothes and she whirled them around in the shade to look back at the shabby house. “I saw something move in the attic window, so if you’re telling me you’ve been climbing up that ladder with only your upper body strength, I’d say you’re a damn liar.”

He sneered back at her. “Well I suspect you must have terrific lower body strength with the variety of conclusions you’ve been jumping to.” Hermione ignored him and observed the house to gauge the number of intruders inside and their reaction to the explosion. “And for Merlin’s sake, woman, you don’t have to cut so deep to make a point.” Over his shoulder, she noticed him rolling his shoulders self consciously. 

A small smile curled her lips. “You may have been a Slytherin, but that didn’t bless you with a set of pythons.” No movement. Her eyes jumped around the building to sense any spike in magic.

He snorted quietly. “Do not speak of pythons to me, girl.” Severus rubbed his throat and waited patiently with her. 

She had made sure the glass burst inwards in hopes of catching someone inside, yet the house stood quietly. It had mouldy brown sidings with peeling yellowed paint around the now empty window panes. The tall grass surrounding the house moved carelessly in the breeze. A storm was buzzing in the air and she could smell the rain coming. 

They waited for a full minute.

Silence.

Severus flexed his arms again. 

“I’d say anacondas, personally…”

The wind was full of static.

“Severus, they are garden snakes.”

Another minute passed. 

Thunder cracked in the east.

“Granger, are you sure you’re not just mental?”

She didn’t reply. The winds picked up gradually and threw her thick cropped locks into her face. 

“I saw something, Sev, I swe-”

Somewhat distantly, they heard a cry. They both tensed.

The cry rang out again and sounded familiar to her ears. 

_It sounded like.._

A large, smokey black mass wondered out of the back door on four legs. 

_What the .._

“Severus. Since when did you get a cat ?”

The poor thing limped and Hermione’s heart stuttered when she realized her miscalculation. The hefty animal walked on three legs.

It cried out again.

“Oh.” Severus blinked. “Shite. Right.”

Lightning flashed and rain came down on the tree leaves and roofs making a snapping sound. The thing cried out, alarmed and somewhat mournful. Hermione watched the creature sniff the book that Snape had dropped by the round, metal patio table. “Severus..” She gritted out questioningly. 

He rumbled avoidantly in his damaged throat. “I forgot.”

She could’ve wrung him by his scarred neck. Instead, Hermione abandoned their cover to approach the cat. Her wand drawn and hidden by her thigh, she examined the beast closer. She had never seen a domestic cat so large but seemed just that. A meter long, from nose to tail, the cat held a thick, not quite luxurious, coat of long dark fur. It caught Hermione’s gaze with toasted coppery eyes that reminded her of her mum’s. The thought made her readjust her hold on her wand and her stomach to go hollow. 

“When did you get it ?” She called over her shoulder and heard Severus struggle slightly with getting his chair back onto the mossy walkway. 

“Well, she found me actually,” He gruffed and appeared behind her. “About a week or so. I checked. She’s non magical.”

Hermione sighed bitterly. Rain had begun to mat her hair coldly to her scalp. “Oh, so you remember to check her for magic but forgot that you had her in your house ?” 

The copper eyes blinked back up at her intelligently.

“I forgot.”

The cat meowed pitifully and Hermione noticed a trail of bloody paw prints leading from inside. She cast a sour glance at the apathetic, dark man and slowly knelt down to approach the cat. “You are a terrible owner, Severus.”

“Owner ? She found me, girl ! What else am I to do ?”

She shook her head and saw the cat eye her hand wearily. The large beast was about a foot or more tall, with a torso easily as long as Hermione’s. It wobbled on its three limbs uncertainly and Hermione figured that at least one of the paws was bleeding. She sent a spell to heal the pads and the cat stilled in surprise.

“Hey, girl..” Hermione said softly. “Let’s go back inside, hm ? I’ll clean up there and we can get out of the rain..” 

The cat blinked, its ears flattening as heavy drops came down with greater frequency. 

“Now’s a good time to ditch her...”  


Hermione had half a mind to curse him but the cat approached, finally and sniffed her hand. She smiled and stood, gesturing for the cat to go back inside. She walked up the ramp inside, cleaning the path of stray glass as she went. Dutifully, the cat followed and so did Severus. 

“Sev, put on a cuppa. What have you been feeding her anyway ?”

The cat surprisingly took the lead and hopped onto Severus’ work desk like she owned it, even sitting to watch the two humans bustle in the small home. 

Magic weaved through the air with meaningful graces of her wand. The glass clinked and shivered back to their posts and the wetness of the rain there was wicked away. Severus muttered to himself and noiselessly set up a pot of tea. Hermione was only satisfied once the room began to warm slowly to combat the whipping cool winds that snuck inside during the kerfuffle. Her nose and fingertips were awfully chilled from the bad weather and she figured everyone would prefer the heat. She sighed and was shocked to hear the large beast begin to purr like a noisy radiator. 

“Merlin’s balls, what is that sound ?”

Hermione swung around with her hands on her hips. The man looked as nonchalant as ever, dressed down in his soft, grey cotton sweatshirt and loose joggers. She shook her head and accioed the care bag she brought with her. “Unbelievable..” 

“I give her scraps from my meals, better than choking on a sweet wrapper or a rabies infected squirrel out there.” Hermione tossed some books onto the counter for his later perusal. “Did you pack any Pall Malls ?”

She snorted. “If I did, I'd burn them all in front of you right now.”

Severus filled the kettle with water from the low sink and set it on the seriously dated open range stove. “Touchy, touchy…”

It was a secret ritual the two shared during Hermione’s final year at Hogwarts. She’d visited him a few times then, mostly without Minerva present. She had caught him one hot, dreary evening smoking on the back patio. His neck was still wrapped in bandages and while, not yet in the chair, healing potions brewed continuously in his living room, day and night. When he saw her walk through the closet door that Min had charmed as a two way between his house and the Castle, he threw the cigarette into the dry grass and nearly caused a house fire. 

Apparently, Minerva was strictly against smoking and Severus didn’t realize it was Hermione who walked through. She put out the flame and they talked for while afterwards, calming from the confusion and panic. She remembered the taste of her first cigarette under his careful eye. It tasted like wood and ash and the smell clung nicely remining her of summer time campfires. She thought it mild at first, moreso than she anticipated, before she was scolded for not inhaling properly. The burning caused her to cough and she had to spit and Severus laughed at her. The sound of his bellowing laughter was a surprising joyous sound that she never heard from him before. 

“You know, if Minerva ever found out she would kill me and then you in that order.”

Severus snorted and opened the fridge for the milk. “The universe wouldn’t let me die that easily. Have you eaten yet today ?”

Hermione flushed and watched the large cat sway its tail curiously at them. “No. Have you tried out the book I left you ?”

He was removing tupperwares and ingredients before she even answered. “Ah, I made a rather easy carrot dessert if you would like to take any home. The dunderhead who delivers my groceries included a 12 kilo bag of carrots the other day.” He turned on a larger burner and removed the whining kettle. “Why a disabled hermit need that many carrots was a question that never crossed his mind, it seems. It is rather tasty, however.”

Snape readied the rice and Hermione sat at the booth that wrapped the wall around the small kitchen table. She knew better by now to interrupt the flow of his ministrations. It was a terrifying delight to be chased from the kitchen by one Professor Severus Snape, Hermione knew. Not as scary as Molly, but his comments stung much more harshly. “Thanks, I’ll try it later. What are you making now ?”

Oil lavished the pan and Severus opened some containers of cut vegetables. Hermione knew he loved having an organized fridge and he tended to prepare as many of his meals in advance as possible. “Well since you are a swaddled toddler when it comes to spice, I suppose Butter Chicken wouldn’t be disastrous to your delicate palate.”

“You could just say, ‘Butter chicken, Hermione. Also, fuck you.’” She waved her finger to float the tea set and kettle to the cozies on the table. “Should save you time.”

“For you, my dear, I have all the time in the world.” 

She smiled and busied herself with making their cups. Usually, the table was cramped with notes and books and paper bills all stacked in a mess that only the man himself could decipher. It was surprising, the amount of junk the man could accumulate over the short years. Often, she took her meals here on top of academic journals and a mix of pencils and quills since if she moved them he would get fussy. She noticed today that her usual spot was shockingly cleared. 

“My, my Severus. Have you had company ?” 

The oil glistened in the heat and carrot and potatoes were added to the pan and covered. “More whinging from the lunatic who broke my windows.”

She chuckled and put his tea on a stasis charm. “Well, unless you suddenly discovered a fondness for me-” He snorted. “Then I believe you were playing host to someone else ?”

He grumbled and worked on the chicken. “Must you pry into my personal life every time you come visit ?”

She smiled and slouched in the wooden booth. “Again, would save you time if you just told me ~.” She replied in a sing-song voice.

The afternoon continued in pleasant quiet, even if Hermione was incredibly curious to know more. At some point she got up and took some potions to shrink and pocket with Severus' blessing. He usually supplied a variety to Hogwarts for top dollar. It kept him busy and allowed Minerva to pay him well in a way that his would actually accept. She remembered how many of these potions got her through her final year of Hogwarts. “You know, if you eat properly and get some sun, for Godrics sake, you wouldn’t need them.”

  
“Ah, you had your dungeons and I have my Ministry basement. What can we do ?”

The vegetables had softened by then and Severus had begun browning the chicken in another pan. “Well you can eat better and get some sun, that’s what you can do.”

She gave a non-committal sound and leaned in to see his work. “Did you know--”

He let out a withering sigh.

“--that some would consider Butter Chicken a fusion food ? It has its roots in both Indian and British cooking, however that is because of Britain's mass colonization, so its up to debate on who can stake their claim.”

“Great.”

“Supposedly, it goes that the white colonizers came to India to enforce their rule, but the native cuisine was too spicy for them. So in attempts to make meals more bearable, they sought out to add anything to the dishes to cool it down. Milk, butter, cream.. hence the name Butter Chicken.”

The scents of the meal made her mouth water, even as she ranted. The scents were warm, spicy, and tickled her nose playfully.

“Fascinating. 10 points to Gryffindor.”

She blushed with the memory of the ghost from the previous weekend, but pulled a face as he opened another container “Hey ! Are you going to add celery to it?”

Severus didn’t even pause as he dumped in the bright green bites. “What of it ?”

“That’s not traditional. It’s going to throw off the texture !”

“What, the colonizer fusion food ?” He threw the container in the sink where Hermione had a dish washing spell going. “Hermione, I am just one man and the celery will go bad before I get to use it all. I’m sure the real harm derives from the years of colonial rule and systematic oppression, not from me adding celery.”

Hermione grumbled sullenly along with her stomach for the next 40 minutes until he brought three bowls over to the table. They settled in and the cat leaped from it’s perch in the living room and hopped on to the other side of the booth from Hermione. Immediately, it sniffed the food contently and began to take tender bites of the hot meal. 

Severus ignored the beast but Hermione’s mouth hung open. “No fucking way.”

He grunted back in question and she began to giggle hysterically. 

“You cleared a spot for the cat ?!? ”

He finally took notice of her absolute glee and his face crinkled with a sneer. “Nonsense, child.”

She was over the moon and giggling wildly at the grumpy man. “Not, for me, Sev- but you’ll clean up for a cat.” 

Said beast had already scarfed down the sauce and meat and was waving her tail happily, purring her low, clunky purr. Hermione had tears in her eyes.

“Her name is Sandra.”

Hermione began wheezing. “The cat ?”

Snape swatted her, catching her ear with the back of his spoon and Hermione clutched it and fell further into the booth away from his reach still laughing. 

“No, you little swot. The woman who comes by.”

She finally gathered herself at this and edged over to the lip of the booth eagerly. “Really ?” Her eyes round as coins and damp with her mirth. He had begun to dip into his bowl and the cat stared at him as she watched him blow the delicious smell of spices across the table. “Yes. Eat your food.” Picking up her spoon, Hermione did as she was told. She finished the steamy bowl of Butter Chicken and vegetables. By the time she finished, she wiggled in her seat with an unfamiliarly full belly. Then, she waited - obnoxiously staring at Severus the entire time. In turn, he ate his food carefully and slowly. He took meticulous care in making sure none of the creamy orange sauce dripped into his salt and pepper beard.

As soon as his spoon was set back down to the table, Hermione pounced. “Who is she ? Why does she come here ? How did you meet ?”

Severus eyed both Hermione and the cat with disdain. “Again with sticking your nose in other’s business..”

“Pleaseeeee ?” She whined. The cat seemed to follow Hermione's lead because they both stared up at him with pleading eyes.

“She likes my garden.”

Hermione whistled. “Severus, you dog, you.” She wiggled her eyebrows and he scoffed. Long, nimble fingers numbly wrapped around his teacup and he began stirringly it thoughtfully. She watched his dark eyes scan the table as if to make sure all was in order but she knew intuitively that he was nervous. _It would be good to keep it light, for now, and not push him._ He adjusted the cozies and Hermione felt happy for him.

Just then, Minerva McGonagall burst through the closet door, wheezing heavily like she ran up several flights of stairs. She spun around, pointing her wand at the table with a strained neck and a wild look in her eyes. The cat yelled in fear and ran off into the house. 

“Minerva,” Severus replied evenly as Hermione lay flat across the bench, having dove under the table for cover. “Care for some dinner ?”


	28. party prep

**CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT**

The evening continued with a very terse lecture from Minerva. It was a speech full of yelling, flying Scottish spittle, and tips on the proper etiquette to take during emergency situations. It was only once her ire burned down to the coals that the two managed to calm her down enough to eat together for a while before both witches went home. 

They resolved to employ the old DA’s gallon trick despite Minerva’s protests. She was worried that the magical uptick might draw further attention to Snape. He countered that he’s been in danger since the first War and right now, he’s more vulnerable than ever. After his second bowl of Butter Chicken, while Hermione dug through his fridge to pack some Gajar Ka Halwa for her and Minnie to take home, Severus finished by saying that he needs all the advantages he can get. The Head Mistress eventually conceded, worriedly, and Hermione explained the false alarm and the story of the poor, three legged cat that had yet to reappear since Minerva’s loud entrance and subsequent tirade. Figuring she must’ve hid from the scary intruder, they left Severus to deal with his new pet by himself. 

Friday had Hermione buzzing the entire work day from excitement. She reminisced about old camping trips with her parents as a child and the new found joy she received being able to relive those memories with her friends. After the chaos from Severus’ home, she had rested well that night and woke in the morning feeling fresh and energized for the day.

Work remained as steady as usual and Lex stopped by to make sure all was well for the weekend while dropping off the files on Merlin and Morgana. 

“Luckily, no one was using these notes so I can hand them off to you now. Organizing all the pieces containing information on the Original 28 will still take time, however.”

“Thanks, Lex.” She smiled cheerfully, all packed up to leave at 4pm sharp. “But, I think I’ll wait until Monday to read them.”

The tall vampire set down the two new accordion files before her desks and raised a brow. “Really ? Is everything alright, Hermione ?”

She laughed easily, her chest feeling light and her spirits high. “Yes, I’m fine. Just the gangs getting together to help out with all the final prep work. If I’m late again, I might be buggered with the Pizza bill like last time.”

Lex smiled back and chewed their pipe. “I’m glad to hear. I’ll see you tomorrow then at the Hog Head Inn, then?”

“See you at noon.”

“See you there.”

As an added precaution, Hermione flooed straight to the Burrow from work. She brought a couple changes of clothes with her as did, so she’d be ready with whatever they threw at her. And, boy, was she glad she did.

“Oh thank Merlin’s hairy sack, you’re here!” 

As soon as the lacquered black of the Ministry fell away, it was replaced by the absolute hurricane of activity taking place in the Weasley Household. Ginny crushed her in a rib shattering hug and delivered a quick, unfortunately wet kiss on her friend’s cheek. “Fuck me sideways. Pack a plate, we got a long night ahead.”

Hermione laughed and just as quickly as she came Ginny was gone, disappearing through the multitude of crowded bodies in the cramped homely house. The place was much busier and very much more disorganized than the last year. Red hair was everywhere, people were chattering, cheering, and yelling over the noise that flooded her like a riptide. It seemed like the majourity of folks just popped in having finished work as well and the floo flashed behind her as more people came. Familiar faces and new hair cuts and tiny children ran around as Hermione shimmied her way to the kitchen.

It seemed even more like a battle ground there. 

The strong, ringing voice of one Ms Molly Weasley called out orders to a motley range of staff. She immediately recognized George dancing around his restless mother with a ladle in hand and baby Fred on his shoulders, holding on to his hair like he was operating his father’s movement. Fleur was stomping around, heavily pregnant where Ron was on a constant rove of reliving her hands of platters and running out the back door to deposit them. Two women with varied upkeeps of brown hair were focused over multiple pots and pans, each steaming with stews and starches. The room was hot and sweaty and held a confusing myriad of scents. _Doesn’t look like pizzas on the menu tonight._

She only felt a brief ache in her heart from the loving, busy scene before she was interrupted by a singular trademark, “‘Ello Hermione.” 

She met George’s mischievous blue eyes before looking up into a similar set of mischievous brown ones above. “Hello George, hello Fred.”

The sweet brown baby gurgled happily and tugged on his dad’s striking red hair. He smiled through the wince and gave her a wink. “Angelina is already at the Forest, she’ll faint when she sees you’re here.” 

“I better go relieve her then.” They smiled conspiratorially until they heard Molly scream that _the food is for helpers not layabouts_ at one of the former classmates in the living room. 

George’s well worn laugh lines accommodated his smile. “I best get on that.”

Hermione swore she heard a small explosion from the room over and a fearful Irish lilt. “Good luck !” She called and went to exit out to the backyard where several portkeys must be stationed.

“Oh! ‘Mione !” She stopped and swiveled back around only to be caught in a large one armed hug from a very sweaty Ron. “Take a plate or two, would you, yea ? You’re wasting away, ‘Mione. You’ll be a stick by next year's party !”

His scratchy red beard rubbed her face and Hermione shrugged him off good naturedly as he handed her off a couple of plates charmed in a stack. 

“Well zen, she can ‘ave ‘eour share, little Ronald !” Fleur entered the conversation fluidly, poking him in the rotund belly that he had gained over the years. 

“Ow !” He rubbed his stomach moodily before his face broke into a cheeky grin. “Don’t you know we’ll be sharing a due date, sis ?” 

Fleur only looked over to Hermione and rolled her eyes as Ron chuckled at his own joke. She waddled away annoyed and he followed her back inside the kitchen to quickly take more food from her hands. Hermione's cheeks burned from seeing Fleur again but she was happy that she moved so effortlessly into Bill’s family after the War.

Now outside, the loudness of the house was considerably muted and she was able to take a deep breath of the cool summer air. Bugs chirped in the grass surrounding the property and birds sung an unabashed evening song in the flowering trees. In the flat area of the yard, there were several stations of tables that held what looked like muggle tools. Before them was a larger table set up to house multiple meals ready for pick up for anyone coming or going to the house. She refreshed the heating charm around the table and shrunk half the meals to put into her purse. Hermione figured she’d encounter many hungry workers along the way.

Next she approached the nearest table and touched the wrench that lay on top and felt the squeezing feeling of the portkeys magic. When the world stopped spinning and her lungs felt the capacity to expand again, she floated happily down to the earth until her high tops sink into the well trodden mud. The mud squished under her shoes and again, she wished for her boots back in the Room of Requirements. _I’ll get them sometime later.._ A swirl of magic adjusted her Chucks to have a thicker platform in hope of easier navigation through the woods. The air smelled of pine and magic. It was cool and damp here and the tree boughs held back the late evening sun like hands holding the bright orb in its place. 

The Forest of Dean held the same busy atmosphere as the Burrow but over an expanse nearly similar in size and layout to the Quidditch World Cup games. _Speaking of…_ Hermione immediately guessed the theme that Ginny planned as she headed towards the massive colosseum to her left. 

It was a professional sized quidditch pitch, bigger than Hogwarts’ pitch at least, raised in stone and wood and decorated with shimmering banners that read out slogans like ‘FIVE YEARS PEACE’, ‘VICTORY IS OURS’, and ‘MOLDEVORT IS DEAD !’.

Hermione snickered as the banners changed to show heroic depictions of lions and ravens and badgers and a tiny snake each interacting with crude drawings of hapless Dead Eaters running in fear. Caricatures of Professors who fought in the War triumphed beside notable members of Dumbledore's Army. 

On her way, she noted a few old faces from school. Above the spread of large tents she waved at Minerva, Bill Weasley, and Professor Flitwick over seeing the charms in place to house all the guests. She noted Harry far off behind the sea of tents rounding the perimeter of the camp. He was surrounded by a patrol of Aurors who wore bright purple ponchos and walked domineeringly around the Boy Who Lived who was listing off instructions while giving his Godson a piggyback. Hermione could spot the young boy with a vibrant head of similarly purple hair crawling all over Harry who seemed to struggle to hold him. 

She let the meals she took hover in full size around her and whizzed them over to both contract workers and former students who mingled around the camp. They would call her name or give her nods as she passed and she comforted herself by hoping it was only because she bore dinner. Nearing one of the many entrances to the pitch, she waved over to a small crowd of people working on this year's Memorials. 

“‘ERMIONE !” 

Hagrid shouted so loud that all in the group jumped. Grawp clapped happily in sonic booms that made the people duck and rush to steady the monuments. Hermione winced and made her way over. There were five large, flat slabs of marble which reminded her of Dumbledore’s tombstone. Cho Chang and Luna Lovegood were standing before them, examining a paper scroll as a reference to make sure they had all the names right. Behind the stones, stood an oddball selection of current and former professors. Sybil Trelawny spoke quickly and concernedly to a calm Aurora Sinistra who was helping Frienze channel some ritualistic magic on the marble. The substitute Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank was having a very expressive conversation with Grawp who was petting an exceedingly grey Fang and relaxing against a tilted English Oak. Hagrid parted from the latter group to approach Hermione. 

“Sawry.” He whispered. He was large as ever and his rough frayed tunic hung over his massive, dirt streaked arms. Hagrid wrung his hands bashfully.

“Hagrid.. “ She shook her head and leaped into his arms and he laughed with her in loud barks that drowned out her own tinkling laughter. 

He set her down gently and scruffed her hair. “Arh, ‘Ermione… it’s good to see yeh.”

“Likewise.” She giggled and battered away his giant chaffed palm. “What are you working on ?”

“Arh !” He shuffled a meagre few steps away from the site and attempted to whisper again. “Well, it’s s’pposed ta be a secret bu’..”

She giggled behind a hand when Cho snapped back to look over at the two, eyeing Hagrid threateningly. Luna popped her head around the angry girl and waved. “Hullo Hermione.” She called out wistfully before the two girls looked back at the now softly glowing slabs.

“Then keep it a secret, Hagrid. I’ll see it when everybody else does.”

He scratched his head sheepishly and his ruddy cheeks grew pink behind his mop of black frizzled hair. “Arh.. guess yer right..,”

“Hey, do you know where Ginny might be ?” She asked, hoping to redirect his attention. 

“Heh eh eh heh, yer headed tha right way.” He gestured inside the Quidditch Pitch with a huge thumb. “Good luck, she’s been fussin’ wit it all week.” 

“Thanks, Hagr-Ouf !” Hermione lurched when he patted her shoulder with a heavy hand. She soon waved farewell and she hurried off.

Passing under the closest arch towards the green pitch, Hermione was impressed by the scale to which the structure stood. In the dark of the hall, she finally swapped her set of clothing in a snap, ready for the worse, and marched forwards towards the figures standing there.

“Need any help ?” 

First to spin back was Ginny, her fiery hair catching the cool evening breeze. “About fucking time, we need a life saver !”

Angelina turned and Hermione smiled back at the woman who looked just as relieved and took a drag from a cigarette. “Oh, thank heavens..”

“ANNNND NEXT TO THE PITCH, THE BRIGHTEST WITCH OF OUR AGE, HERRRRMIOOONNNEEE GRAANGGERR !”

The amplified voice of the former Hogwarts quidditch announcer rang through the stadium enthusiastically.

Ginny swung back and pointed her wand to her throat. “LEE ! WE’RE TRYING TO BLOODY FUCKING FOCUS HERE !”

“OOO, THAT’LL BE A FOUL TO POTTER.”

Ginny flipped off the man who was set up in the announcer booth with two other people halfway across the stadium.

“I need him drawing, not yapping..” Ginny removed her wand from her neck, growling tersely. Hermione thought it wasn’t the time to point out the way Ginny sounded very much like her mother at the moment. Angelina just looked tired. 

“What’s the problem you two ?” Hermione finally inquired.

Ginny sighed and Angelina replied, “Well, we’ve been working the last five days on making sure this thing will stay up and is up to code but _this one_ is getting cold feet.” She nodded to Ginny.

“It’s too big and pompous, people won’t want to walk up all this way to watch amateur Quidditch games.” She sighed and rubbed her red, freckled face. 

“Hah !” Angelina scoffed exasperatedly. “Sounds like something _someone_ said back when we were still planning.”

Hermione agreed with Angelina but Ginny looked hopeless and defeated by her own worry. 

“Circe’s tits.. Is it too late to cancel the whole thing ?” Ginny groveled. 

“Hmm..” Hermione looked around the stadium. “ How many attendees are coming this year ?”

Ginny began to take deep breaths, her athletic frame crumpled over her knees. “Well, we sent out like, 150 invitations..”

“Plus their plus one’s.” Angelina chimed, taking another drag.

“Yeah and after that, it’s like, 1400 tickets ?”

Angelina whistled as she blew out smoke and Ginny looked pale. 

“Wow.”

The three women didn’t look at each other. 

“1700 people are coming ?” Hermione cleared her throat. “That’s.. That’s more than half of the UK Wizarding population.”

They were all quiet.

“Well..” Ginny straightened up and took the cigarette from Angelina’s hand, kicking the grass. “They aren’t _all_ coming from Britain.”

“Blimey..” Angelina raked a hand through her braids. “How many people can this thing hold ?”

Hermione looked around the coliseum. It was an oblong bowl shape and relatively shallow. The inner walls rose at least two stories high when the double rows of seats began and angled sharply. Angelina was muttering Jesus Christ under her breath and Hermione was inwardly thankful to have the half blood nearby. 

Ginny puffed nervously. “It can handle more than four times Hogwarts’ pitch.”

“The school could hold about maybe 400 people so.. About 1600 then.”

Ginny’s eyes were glassy and heavy with dark bags. “Yup.”

Hermione squinted.

“Then add another row of chairs ?” Ginny and Angelina looked back at Hermione who had already raised her wand. 

“But..” 

The ground shook beneath their feet as Hermione raised pillars of stone and wood from the earth to reach the height of the coliseum’s inner rim. “You say there’s 1600 seats as is ? Two rows means 800 seats per row. 200 seats in each section, eight sections.. Add a row and we bring it up to 2400 seats. Yes, that’s far too many.. though, if we widen the walkways between..” The seats began to rumble and shift, columns of them folding down on either side of the aisles and their bright purple fabric melting grey into the stone. “And how about taking the hundred seats by three rows in each section and cutting them in half to fifty seats by three rows..”

Trees in the distance swayed with the magical activity, their leafy and needled peaks barely visible over the coliseum. Gin and Angelina heard Lee Jordan and his lackeys shouting in their announcers box as their room was scraped along the length of the ring in the distance. 

“That’s only 150 seats per section, 1200 seats in total.” Hermione quirked her mouth and scanned the coliseum as the loud screech of stone stopped. Ginny looked alarmed and Angelina stole her cigarette back from the dumbfounded redhead. “But ! If the sections were three rows by seventy five seats.. You get 225 seats per section leaving 1800 seats in total !” 

Her wand twirled and hooked through the air. When she finished, she reasoned out loud. “Still a hundred over, presuming everyone does come to watch. but I suppose it's better to have too much than too little.”

Ginny gawked and raised her hand to take a puff before realizing the cigarette was gone.

“But what about how we get the people into the seats ?” Angelina asked and flicked the butt out of existence. “This is a party, people are bound to get sloshed in no time and this entire camp is under an anti apparition ward.”

“That’s true.” Hermione looked out again. “So what if we divide the tent area into eight sections as well? And have a portkey to each area so that the people can easily get to and from their tents?”

Angelina lit another cig for her old Quidditch teammate and Ginny thanked her and sighed. “Yeah, that’d be great but we don’t have time to register another eight portkeys. It’s already Friday evening and the ministry tossers -- no offence, ‘Mione -- won’t see the order until Monday.”

Hermione took the cigarette from Ginny, who’d yet to take a puff, and inhaled deeply. The favour and smoke washed over her tongue and burned in her chest. “Well, you did say you need a lifesaver. I can make them.”

Struck with inspiration, she pointed back at the seats and vaguely heard Lee scream and tell his group to brace themselves. She added another ring of railed walkways at the front and back of the coliseum and enchanted them to spin slowly in opposite directions of each other. _Like the sliding layers of a Rubrik’s Cube.._ The smoke exited through her nose and she smirked.

Passing the cigarette back to an impressed Angelina, Hermione turned her coy smile on them. “Unspeakable here, ladies. I can make unregistered portkeys anytime I want.” 

Ginny staggered forward. “Morgana herself, Hermione. I think I love you.” 

She laughed in response as the strong, taller woman wrapped her muscled arms around her and squeezed. Angelina laughed at the pair when Ginny began to pepper kisses on Hermione and the brunette squirmed. “Calm down, you dykes. Let’s grab some grub, alright now ?”

Ginny squealed and detached from Hermione and she went to tackle the Black woman who was already walking back through the stadium's arch. “You’re such a cunt, Angie! Let’s find some fire whiskey instead.”

The woman laughed on their way out, batting each other and swaying. Both completely unaware that they left Hermione where she stood on the fresh green pitch, red faced and heart cold.

  
  



	29. blm acab fuck the police eat the rich believe women be gay do crimes

Im gonna be real w you all. I write bc it makes me happy

I aint happy

My heart goes out to those hurting these days and for the innumerial amount of people who have been suffering for a lot longer. 

Change needs to happen.

I got no platform except this:

so go donate today

if you can't, find out ways to support your community 

be safe 

protect others

be anti racist

be anti capitalist

be an environmentalist

be a feminist

fight cops

fight cops

fight cops

fight cops

not gonna post for awhile. i'll write when im happy. 

be safe 

Leiddely

* * *

Finally,

Ain’t gonna presume on anybody’s financial status, and not tryna spam - but if you can, please donate to the Minnesota Freedom Fund and to Black Lives Matter.   
  
If you know what’s going on, good. Here’s the next step :)  
  
If you don’t know what’s going on, try and find out. You’re gonna have some opinions and things will make you sad and frustrated. Talk to the people around you and lean on each other. But understand this is why these organizations need your help.   
  
Lastly, if you did these things or are just doing the best you can, great. Next is the long term goal of not just being ‘not racist’, but specifically ANTI RACIST.   
  
Educate yourselves and be safe. Thank you for listening and thank you in advance if you donate.   
  
<http://minnesotafreedomfund.org/>   
  
<http://blacklivesmatter.com/>   
  



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